


Sassenach

by orangeyouglad8



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: "beneath my kilt", "no sneaky sausages here just two lady caves and lots of romance", Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Outlander Fusion, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, And really, But also, F/F, I make no apologies for this, Outlander!au, Picture, That's right, Time Travel, all pouty thinking about Clarke's Good Sassenach Cleavage, also can i just repeat, alternate titles may include, and Clarke is gonna get all UPPP in those Highlands, and how she can't touch it, and that is enough for me, another tagline would be, because hello, can we blame her for being so pouty, complete with a horrible romance novel like cover, if you know what i mean, in Lexa's arms, in the Scottish Highlands, lexa in a kilt, lexa. in. a. kilt., of a swooning Clarke, or so Grams tells me, pouty lexa, the scottish contingent of tumblr loves it, this is lesbian outlander, this would be deemed a true bodice ripper, while we're talking about crack romance covers, with Lexa in a kilt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-13
Updated: 2018-09-23
Packaged: 2018-10-31 04:33:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 25,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10891791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orangeyouglad8/pseuds/orangeyouglad8
Summary: or Outlander!auThe war is finally over, but life around Clarke feels dull and listless. She wonders just what the future may hold until a fateful trip to Scotland leads her on an adventure into the past.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Importing this lovely over from tumblr where it has never had an official title or was even considered a Serious Thing until recently. Enjoy!

The Scottish countryside rolls by outside the windows. 

Misty and foreboding. 

Enchanting 

Clarke has never seen such a deep, rich green ever before. It’s a sight for sore eyes and a sore mind. Finn prattles on in the driver’s seat. Something about the bed and breakfast they’re visiting. The researcher he found to delve deeper into his family tree. 

And not for the first time, Clarke regrets this vacation with him. This long weekend away to reacquaint themselves with one another. 

She vaguely remembers the love she used to feel for him, the way her heart used to flip flop in her chest at his smile. How his hair used to fall forward onto his face, no matter how much pommade he used. 

How it was so thrilling, to catch his eye and to become his. 

It’s different now. 

They’re different now. 

Everyone is. 

There was relief that first day he limped off the train. His leg still healing from the wounds of the war, his uniform a bit looser around his thin frame. But he was alive and he was there and his arms around her felt good. 

It was relief that first day, but the flip flop in her heart never resumed. 

The smiles came back, haunted and rough around the edges. The stories of what they both saw shared between them, short and never in full detail. Never enough to let the other know just how bad the horrors they were made to witness really were. 

There was his presence in bed every night. Warm and solid, but never crossing the line. Their kisses nothing but polite and infrequent. 

Clarke fears they will be broken like this forever. 

And it’s that fear that makes her agree to this trip, this weekend away, this half concocted plan of Finn’s to bring them back some normalcy. 

The world around them has turned into something unrecognizable, and if this is how they cope, then this is how they cope. 

 

Xx 

 

There is a woman just inside the door of the bed and breakfast. She cocks her head and studies Clarke as soon as she is through the door and a shiver moves down Clarke’s spine. 

Finn gets pulled into the study right away to begin delving into the papers of the past, and the woman shows Clarke to their room. Placing their suitcase down on the bed and studying her again. 

“I feel as if I know you. Have you ever been up here before?” 

Clarke shakes her head. “This is my first time.” 

“How odd.” The woman turns and leaves the room with nothing more, and Clarke is stumped. 

 

Xx 

 

When she descends into the parlor, Finn is still locked away but there is a tray with tea waiting for her. She pours herself a cup and studies some of the books on the wall by the window, drinking as she goes. 

“I’ll read those for you if you’re almost done.” The voice startles her and she nearly drops the cup. She spins and turns, hand over her racing heart to find the woman from before. 

“I don’t know, I’ve never had that done before. I’m not quite sure I believe in it.” 

“That is precisely why you should let me.” The woman sits down and waits for Clarke. 

“I’m sorry, what was your name?” 

There’s a twinkle in her eye when she looks up again. “You may call me Mrs. Graham.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry, I thought you were married to Thomas.” Clarke points towards the door where Finn disappeared. 

“No, no dear. We care for these grounds together but we are not married. My husband passed three years ago and I moved here full time.” 

Clarke nods her sympathies and drinks the remainder of her tea, her stomach knotting into itself as she hands the cup over to Mrs. Graham. The cup is flipped onto the small saucer and Mrs. Graham’s forehead furrows as soon as she looks. 

“Interesting. May I see your hand, my dear?” 

“Clarke.” 

“A wonderful name. Now, your hand?” She holds her own out, open and waiting and Clarke swallows the lump in the back of her throat. 

“Just as I imagined it would be.” Mrs. Graham whispers, more to herself than to Clarke. She studies Clarke’s hand again, quietly, running her finger along the lines grooved into skin. 

She says nothing for a long time. 

When she looks up, her eyes are almost black. 

 

Xx 

 

Clarke starts from her sleep, sweaty and flushed. 

Mrs. Graham’s eyes haunting even in dreams. 

Her heart races and she pours herself a glass of water from the pitcher on the dresser. 

Finn doesn’t even stir, worn out from the drive and the day. His mind racing with all the thoughts brought up from his discussions in the afternoon.

Before dinner they walked the grounds and stumbled across an old castle. Smaller than Clarke thought it would be, but still beautiful even in crumbling ruin. This at least wasn’t brought down from the bombs. 

Finn smiled sweetly at her as they made their way through the rough landscape and the rooms taken over by grass and weeds. A forgotten life was lived in this place. 

He held Clarke’s hand through their walk, but it felt more like a routine than anything. An offering to do so because it is how they were before. 

And Clarke felt almost nothing as he did. Just as she felt nothing the first time they tried to reconnect. Cringing at the thought of their stilted and perfunctory love making when Finn came home. How it was rote and precise and nothing like it had been when they were newly married. Newly married and home for eight months before the call came. 

He hasn’t tried since. 

She hasn’t either. 

And perhaps this is what life will be. Companionship and quiet conversation. 

Her stomach turned at the thought. 

Already feeling useless and morose in the life she returned to. The one that placed her back inside the house, her nursing skills no longer needed in the world. Her only job now to carry babies and support the home. 

And no, she quietly promises herself. She will not stand for it. Will find another way to live, to breathe. 

Too young to succumb to that life. 

When she cannot fall asleep again, she throws her shoes on and leaves the room. The moon is full and wonderful in the sky, lighting up the fields that surround them like a shining beacon. 

She walks and she walks and she walks. 

Feels a pull to the great open grass. To the stones of Craigh Na Dun they discovered earlier in the day. 

A pull that she cannot explain, but she knows that is where her feet are carrying her. Can feel it. 

They rise up out of the darkness and a soft buzzing fills the air. She looks up and around wondering if there are insects above her that come alive only in the night, but she finds the air clear. The stars shining as brightly as the moon. 

The buzzing gets louder and louder with each step. 

The pull in her gut stronger and stronger the closer she gets to the stones. 

And the largest one looms before her. A warmth radiating from it into the cool night air. She reaches out, the buzzing in her ears drowning out any other sound. A vibrating now, one that she can feel all around her. 

And then the rough rock beneath her fingers. 

And then nothing. 

 

Xx 

 

There’s a clanging. 

Metal against metal, clashing and ringing out. 

Instinct drives her to open her eyes and she almost doesn’t believe what she sees, blinking once, twice, before sitting up. 

There is a man in a kilt before her, the sun high in the sky. He’s squared off against two redcoats, and swearing loudly at them. Clarke can hear more fighting in the distance and her training bounces back into her bones. She crawls along the high grass, trying to get as far away as she can before she hears a deep voice. 

“I wouldn’t keep moving if I were you.” 

She crawls faster until a heavy black boot nudges her hip and forces her to roll over. She can’t get a good look at his face, the sun blinding in it’s intensity. She can see the red wool of his coat, the shiny buckles that sit in the fabric. Feel the cool, hard, metal of the sword he has tucked under her chin as he appraises her. 

And though she can’t see his eyes, she can feel the way he slides them up and down her body. 

“Well, well, well, where did you come from?” 

She doesn’t get to answer, doesn’t even attempt to fight back before there’s a loud thud and the soldier is out cold on the ground next to her. 

When Clarke looks up, a giant of a man with a dark beard and even darker eyes is holding his hand out for her. “Come on lass, let’s get you up and tucked away somewhere safe.” 

And she doesn’t want to trust him, his accent thick and hard to understand, but the way he looks at her is kind and puzzled and she places her hand into his and feels herself pulled to her feet. 

“Thank you,” she manages to choke out. Noticing the alarm on his face when he hears the wrong vowels leave her lips. It’s only then, once she’s standing on her own two feet, that everything swims before her eyes and the darkness takes over. 

 

Xx 

 

“Ah, you’re awake.” 

The first words she hears again once her eyes open to find a canvas tent above her. She has to take a deep breath to quell the thoughts that race back to bombs and blood and war. 

When she looks around she sees the giant man who knocked the soldier out. 

“Have some water and then we’ll talk.” He hands her a skin and she drinks the cool liquid.  When she’s finished he takes her by the shoulder and guides her out of the tent to the fire that’s blooming into the night sky. 

There are men gathered around, studying her. 

Someone draped a blanket over her shoulders, covering up her night clothes providing warmth and a shield. 

“He didn’t seem to know who you were, so you must not have been with them, and yet… you’re British.” 

It’s not a question, but she’s expected to answer as all eyes turn towards her. 

“I am, “ she says and those pairs of eyes widen. 

“How did you get here? Why are you alone?” 

She tries to come up with the best answer she can even though her head is still swimming and she’s not entirely sure where she is. 

“I was traveling, I got separated from my group.” 

“You’re in your night clothes…” 

“I- I…” she wills herself to be smarter than this. 

The men erupt around her when she fails to answer. She hears the words spy and whore thrown around and promptly tunes out. Blood rushing in her ears and the spots still dancing in her eyes in her weakened state. 

When she looks back up she catches the eye of the only soldier still sitting. Still quiet. 

A woman. 

Studying the fray before her. 

Brooding and surly. Clearly nursing some kind of injury. 

But still she does not speak up. 

With the flick of her eyes, she meets Clarke’s. 

And Clarke cannot look away. 

They study each other and the rest of it fades away. Something tugs inside of Clarke, something wild. The same tug she felt walking in moonlight.

“ _Girl!_ _What_ is your _name_?” The giant man yells at her, frustrated that he had to call her more than once to break her thoughts. 

She opens her mouth to speak, watching as the other girl’s face shifts. Opens itself just a little bit more, but never takes her eyes away from Clarke’s. 

“Clarke. Clarke Griffin.” 

Her maiden name. It’s the first one that falls from her lips and it feels right. 

“Where is your party?” 

“I don’t know. I got lost,” she shrugs. Nerves building steadily in her belly. The other girl still watching, studying. “I hit my head, I passed out. I don’t even… I can’t recall… what year is it?” She lets some of the exasperation into her voice. Needing to know where the fuck she is. 

Clarke feels drawn to the girl who has not broken her gaze, not once, even if her eyes widen at Clarke’s question. 

When someone answers, she nearly faints again. 

Somehow, by some unexplained force, she is standing two hundred years in the past. 

 

Xx 

 

They begin arguing around her again. 

This time the girl stands up and steps closer to the conversation. 

And when she is distracted, Clarke takes advantage and slips away. She hears water running and follows it, thirsty and confused. 

Two hundred years. 

Two _hundred_. 

The stones, the buzzing, the pull. 

It all… but how? 

She’s debating the physics of it when rough hands grab her. A flash of red meets the corner of her eye as she’s spun around to find two soldiers. Their eyes wild, the thrill of the hunt alive in them. 

She struggles against them but they’re too strong and outnumber her. She screams, lets it loose into the night sky. 

Kicks and bites and claws against them. 

Fear growing in her belly, spreading to her limbs, she will not see the dawn. 

But suddenly they fall. 

Without a sound, and without breath, they fall. Releasing her from their grip. 

Blood pooling darker red through their coats. 

And when Clarke looks over her shoulder, the brooding girl is there. Her chest heaving and her eyes fiery and wild and alive. Clarke studies her. The billowing white shirt and the heavy kilt that covers her lower half. The plaids that symbolize her clan, her people. 

“Thank you for saving me.” She finally finds her voice. 

“You shouldn’t be out here alone!  Foolish _sassenach_. What if I wasn’t here to come to your aid?” 

“You’re hurt,” Clarke notices the girl bleeding and ignores the chastising. 

“It’s nothing.” 

The girl leads her back to camp, walking just far enough ahead to see Clarke, but to allow her space to breathe. To recover. 

When they make it back the men are all huddled by the flames. Drinking and arguing in a language Clarke does not understand. She feels their glares as they land on her, but ignores it. Choosing instead to focus on the wild girl before her. 

“Let me take a look.” She gets the girl to agree only by putting a slight amount of pressure on her dislocated shoulder. There’s a glare and a hiss, but acquiescence. 

She patches up the girl’s shoulder, resets the joint and stitches the wound. 

The men around her all stare in awe at her skills. They are still skeptical and wary of her presence but cannot deny her skill. They begrudgingly send her to bed, with a guard posted outside her tent. Clarke knows there will be no more attempts to leave again. Not tonight, and not with the redcoats so close. 

The next morning she’s greeted by the man who brought her to camp. Gustus introduces himself properly and thanks her for tending to Lexa’s wounds. Clarke smiles at finally learning her patient’s name. 

“We’ll take you back to Leoch with us, we could use a healer.” 

“I have to find my way back.” She thinks of Finn, her friends. Her life in the future. 

“Not yet, lass.” He shakes his head and Clarke realizes that getting home will be harder than time travel. 

It turns out, Lexa is the one who takes responsibility for her as they set out to head back to their home base. Clarke sits in front of her on horseback and argues with Lexa about her shoulder and holding the reins. 

Lexa rolls her eyes, “I’ve ridden home with worse injuries, I’ll be fine, _sassenach_.” 

Clarke can see the ache in her shoulder, the way her eyes widen with the pain, but she doesn’t argue any further. Her stomach flipping as she feels Lexa behind her, arms around her to hold the reins, chest flush against her back, legs bracketing hers and a warm breath hitting her neck. 

“You’ll tell me if it hurts?” 

Lexa just scoffs in her ear and urges her mount forward. 

And for the first time since she’s landed in the past, Finn is far from her mind.

 


	2. Chapter 2

The other girl is beguiling, of that Lexa is sure. 

She studies Lexa with a keen gaze and a wisdom in her eyes that speaks volumes. 

They think she’s a spy and she could be. 

But there’s something frightened and skittish about her. She looks… out of place. 

Odd. 

Lexa chooses to watch the scrum erupt instead of offer her opinion. 

Watches the other girl disappear into her mind as they argue around her. 

Watches her slip away. 

Waits a beat and then follows, quietly and just far away enough that she cannot be heard. It’s too far to stop the ambush, and she races the rest of the way. Clarke’s screams fueling her feet, the ache in her shoulder gone with the adrenaline that boosts her forward. 

Clarke swings her legs and fights hard enough to distract them. Lexa’s blade moves through both of them with ease. 

And Clarke spins around with fear still wide in her eyes until she finds Lexa. 

It’s gone almost instantly and her chest heaves with a breath of relief and something else. 

The pain in Lexa’s shoulder roars back and she flinches. Sees Clarke eye the movement. 

She moves from grateful and scared to chastising Lexa far too quickly for comfort, and Lexa tries to ignore the way the attention makes her flush. She stalks ahead of the girl instead, back to camp, back to the argument she is sure will still be going when they’re back.

 

Xx

 

Clarke gets her to sit by the fire to look at her shoulder simply by pressing upon it. Lexa grumbles at how easy it was and sits sullen, like a child being punished, while Clarke is attentive and calm. She has a soothing nature as she sets the joint and cleans the wound, and it is almost as if Lexa is being doted upon. 

She tries to shake it off. 

Tries to tell herself Clarke is simply kind. Repaying a debt that is owed. 

But there is something in those eyes when they meet her own that won’t quite let her believe it.

 

Xx

 

Even as Clarke attends to Lexa’s wounds, she can tell that the clan believe a spy is in their midst. Or, worse yet, a witch. 

She listens to the men talk and ramble even as they look on in awe at how efficiently Lexa is patched up. And when Clarke is led away to a tent to sleep, she offers to be the one to stand guard. 

Offers to be the one in charge of the strange girl. 

Gustus raises one eyebrow but doesn’t say a word. 

And Lexa finds herself seated on the cold ground watching the fire die down and listening to the snores that echo through the tents. 

Stares ahead into the trees around them and tries to figure out what it is about this girl that seems so...different. 

There’s a flutter in Lexa’s gut when she thinks about how soft Clarke’s eyes were when they worked on her wounds. How her touch was gentle, how her breathing was steady and even among the chaos of the clan. 

No, it’s nothing but another pretty face. There’s nothing else to this girl. 

She could be a danger to them, to the cause. 

And yet…

 

Xx

 

She makes her case. 

Calmly and quietly. 

Gustus looks unsure and the rest of the men begin to argue, but one look from her silences the crowd. 

She takes responsibility for Clarke. 

She tells herself it is merely to get closer to her, give herself more of an opportunity to study the girl. Learn what she can. 

Her heart thuds for a wild handful of beats when she makes the offer and she wills it to return to the steady, slow beat. 

Clarke emerges from the tent earlier than Lexa assumed based on the excitement of the events from the previous night. Lexa hands over a bowl of porridge and nods when Clarke’s unspoken question meets her eyes. 

She stays by Clarke’s side throughout the morning as the men pull down the tents around them. She stands by Clarke’s side as Gustus speaks to her about moving back to Leoch. She sees Clarke’s face fall just the tiniest amount when she realizes they’re leaving this place. 

When she realizes she is being told to move with the clan. 

Lexa helps her up into the saddle as much as she can with her sore shoulder, clenching her jaw at the ache that rattles down to her fingers. She’s rewarded with an incredulous look from Clarke when she swings her own legs up and settles behind the girl. 

There’s a fire in her eyes when she turns around to level that same look at Lexa. Something daring and challenging in them. 

After a beat, it turns into more chastising about the state of her shoulder, but Lexa brushes it off and wraps her arms around Clarke’s waist to grab the reins in front of her. She brackets her legs around Clarke’s more firmly, when she feels the other girl start to wobble unsteadily in the saddle. She wants to settle her hand along Clarke’s stomach to anchor her better, but rethinks it. 

Remembers how wild and frightened Clarke was when Lexa killed the brutes who grabbed her. 

Remembers how she’s been manhandled since she came to their own camp. 

Instead, she flexes her fingers and guides Clarke’s hands to tangle themselves into the grey mane.

 

Xx

 

Lexa spends the long day’s ride back to Leoch thinking about her current predicament. 

Not only was she not supposed to be out with the men with the British Encampment so close. 

But now she has a ward. 

Who may or may not be a spy. 

Who is crossing the guards into their safehold with Lexa’s blessing. 

There is an argument she can already hear in her head. The words that will be thrown at her, points driven home, teeth bared. 

But there is a stronger argument waging itself within her own body. 

The very core of her. 

Buzzing and vibrating with the presence of Clarke. 

Clarke who lectured her about caring for her shoulder and her other wounds properly for a good long while as they began their ride. 

Clarke, who even wrapped in a blanket, seems cold and foreign. 

Clarke who gave up her stubborn decorum after an hour or two in the saddle and leaned back further into Lexa’s strong, steady posture. Apparently not used to riding for that length of time or maybe at all. 

Or perhaps the stress of the past day has just caught up with her. 

Lexa feels her nod off a bit and guides Clarke to lean back even further to sleep. Ignoring the warmth that spreads from her belly to her toes at the action. 

At how Clarke, even half asleep, settles against her good shoulder. 

It’s more than she’s willing to feel in this moment, in this stress of figuring out how best to defend her decisions. 

It’s more than she’s willing to feel at all. 

Especially about someone she knows nothing about. 

There is a strange sense of sadness wafting off of Clarke. A wistfulness that fills the air. 

It calls to Lexa. She can feel it stir her bones. 

But still she swallows it down.

 

Xx

 

Titus is furious with her. 

The vein in his forehead pops out as he paces the floor. His words harsh and unforgiving. Gustus stands in the corner as Lexa waits patiently for Titus to finish raving. One quirked eyebrow is enough for her to realize that he does not understand why Lexa allows this. 

But she does. 

Her hands clasped behind her back and her mind clear. 

Clarke is being kept in the kitchens, under a watchful eye until she can be introduced to Titus. 

Until she can tell her story. 

When Titus finally tires himself out and plops himself onto the chair behind the desk, Lexa steps forward. Her voice calm and measured. 

“I made this decision and I stand by it. I will not change my mind until I see fit. You can accept those terms, or we will be leaving. She is not to be harassed while she’s here and she is to be treated as any other guest we greet.” 

“Lexa-” 

She holds up a hand and cuts him off, raising her eyebrow. He nods and quiets. 

“Gustus, would you fetch Clarke?” She notices the pleased look on Gustus’ face. 

“Aye.” 

When he leaves, Lexa takes a breath and steps closer to Titus behind his desk. “You would be wise not to speak to me that way again.” 

He doesn’t answer right away. Lexa watches him struggle to find the right words. It is only when he finally nods his assent that he looks properly chagrined. 

There’s a soft knock on the door as Gustus returns with Clarke. 

Clarke who looks stressed and defiant, her eyes flickering to Lexa’s as soon as she’s in the room. 

“Titus, I would like to introduce you to Miss Griffin.” 

He stands and gestures to the chair in front of the desk. “Please, have a seat.” 

Clarke sits on the edge of the chair with one quick look at Lexa and a polite nod. Lexa positions herself next to Clarke. 

“Clarke, would you mind recanting your story for me? Lexa has told me much about the past few days, but I am hoping you could elaborate.” 

Clarke takes a deep breath and then begins. Lexa studies her, her mannerisms, her quirks. It’s the same story she told the men around the fire, no grand tales or added details. Even exhausted and hungry, she does not change. She speaks the truth and Lexa lets out the fullest breath she has in days. 

Clarke’s voice comes to a stop and Titus sits forward, questions at the ready. 

Questions Clarke answers in much the same way as she had the previous few nights. All aligning with her explanation. 

It is one Lexa wholly believes. 

She steps forward,interrupting the questions before they can become interrogation. 

“She is a healer.” All eyes are effectively on her now, “She’s a healer. She fixed my shoulder. Gustus was right to offer to keep her here. She can do good work on our men.” 

Clarke’s eyes flare with something hot and angry. 

She stifles it before she turns back to Titus to watch for his answer. 

He doesn’t speak, allowing Lexa to continue. “I would like to set her up in the apothecary until we know more. When we head out, she will come with us.” 

“Understood.” He takes a sip of his wine and turns his attention back to Clarke. “Clarke, you are here as a guest of clan. You will abide by our rules and you will listen to Lexa’s orders.” 

Lexa can see the way Clarke’s back straightens at the statement. 

“You are free to go until further notice.”

 

Xx

 

Lexa shows her to the small apothecary in the basement, the place where she’ll work. Leads her upstairs to the small room that resides next to Lexa’s. 

“If you need anything, I’ll be right there.” She points to the opposite wall. “Clarke,” she begins before words all seem to die on her tongue. “Goodnight,” she dips her head and bows out of the room, pretending to ignore the sobs that sound through the thin wall that separates them. 

She sets down a full bowl of porridge for Clarke in the morning. Still feels drawn to this girl in a way she can’t explain and offers her a small smile before spooning through her own bowl. Clarke looks up with grateful eyes as she tucks into her meal. Lexa sits across from her, swallowing lumps of thick porridge in silence. Wishing she could soothe the ache she can feel radiating off of Clarke. 

Wishing she could say anything that would make this situation more tenable. 

Instead, she rises and offers the other girl a small smile. One that is not returned, but Clarke looks upon her with a new light. 

She puzzles over it all the way to the stables and through her mid-morning routine with the horses.

 

Xx

 

When she returns from the stables, Clarke is in the apothecary tending to a pregnant woman and Lexa pauses to watch, enthralled at the ease in which Clarke moves through the space. How readily she offers herbs that will ease the pain of swelling in the woman’s ankles, her cramps. 

How her low voice offers advice and tips for helping with the backaches and the upset stomach. 

How she looks so completely different when she is tending to another. Soft and gentle, with an assurance that comes with practice and skill. 

She has done this before, and she has done this well. 

But… how? 

Lexa is pulled from her thoughts by the woman sitting up and waddling to the door. She passes by Lexa with a smile, but Lexa is too distracted by the change in the room as soon as they’re alone. 

“You seem to have a thing for watching me from the shadows.” 

“Just checking up on you, _sassenach_.” 

Clarke rounds on her, “Why do you _insist_ on calling me that?” There’s that fire in her eyes, in her voice again and something tugs in Lexa’s belly. 

She can’t help but smirk, “Because that’s what you are, _sassenach_.” 

Clarke’s fire fades and she rolls her eyes but doesn’t dismiss her. 

“If you’re going to stand there calling me names, at least let me check on your shoulder.” 

“My shoulder is fine.” 

“I set it yesterday and I am very familiar with the healing time needed for a separated shoulder. Come inside and sit down, Lexa.” Lexa gets a thrill at hearing her name spoken in Clarke’s accent. 

She takes off her jacket and sets it to the side as Clarke steps closer and pulls down the loose shoulder of her garment to study her bruised and aching shoulder. Clarke’s forehead furrows and wrinkles and her eyes focus, the blue turning into something icy. 

An ice that Lexa feels compelled to break, to tap upon until it cracks wide open. “Will I live?” She teases. 

Clarke doesn’t answer right away. Stuck on poking and prodding the joint, studying her handiwork. Lexa can feel her soften the longer the silence goes on. 

Tries not to focus on how soft Clarke’s hands are against her skin. 

“For now.” Clarke sasses back and Lexa tries to ignore the way her heart drops into her toes.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the kind words and kudos so far! And if you're following me here from tumblr, welcome again! I feel compelled to stress to everyone reading, that this is a full on 'lesbian outlander' and nothing else is afoot. Some previous comments led me to believe this distinction was necessary. If you're familiar with my work, you know that I have never written anything remotely close to what has been suggested. If that is what you're looking for, you will not find that here. 
> 
> (in case this was too vaguely worded for you, Lexa and Clarke both have lady caves)


	3. Chapter 3

 It’s been a week. 

She hears the murmuring around her wherever she goes. The sideways glances. 

The looks from some of the handmaidens that cross the grounds and the house performing their tasks. 

It’s unsettling. 

And though he saved her life, Gustus remains a bit gruff with her. Almost as if he can’t decide how this will play out. So she keeps her head down and does her work. Retreating to the quiet basement apothecary where she can be alone with her thoughts. 

They give her a few dresses, a few garments, woolen and heavy. Dyed in the same plaid that adorns the men outside. No one quite knew what to make of her, how awkward she seemed around the garb. 

One girl laughed and said it was probably due to whatever left her alone and crazed in the cold. 

She nodded and went with it. Gritting her teeth and swallowing unpleasant retorts. 

Grateful for the warm clothes in the damp basement. 

She has watched that same girl flit to the stables whenever she gets a chance and ignores the sensation that prickles at the base of her neck when she wonders what that girl could be doing there. 

Or who. 

Flashes of her life come back to her in pieces. Flashes of Finn’s troubled face when he walked through the door in uniform. Flashes of her hands sewing up wounds that had no chance of holding. Wounds that would bleed until nothing could be done. She can hear bombs and planes echo through her head in the quiet of the Scottish hills. 

It’s all too much so she keeps her head down and hides. Hides her feelings. Hides her truth. 

Hides the way her own stubbornness fades when she thinks about the one person who doesn't look at her like the enemy. Like a specimen to be studied.

 

Xx

 

Lexa never returns, though Clarke can still see her holding the sore shoulder gingerly. She shed the sling long ago, but the stitches remain. 

They don’t speak. 

They hardly see each other. 

Lexa flitting about the grounds, her eyes never looking for Clarke. 

Not after the time she was caught staring and turned her head away so quickly with a fierce blush Clarke thought her neck would snap. 

But Clarke makes sure to study the other girl whenever she emerges from the barn, or the house, or whenever she simply walks by Clarke’s line of sight. 

She can’t seem to get the surly girl out of her mind. Even overwhelmed and fighting to keep her head above water, Lexa occupies her thoughts. Drifts in during the silent moments. 

And so, days later, she sets off to find her patient. 

The barn is warmer than she would have imagined. 

Soft. 

The movements of the horses in their stalls are comforting, welcoming. 

She hears a low voice and goes off in search of it. Her eyes landing on a familiar head of curls, braided back and less wild than before. Her good arm brushing the black coat of the beast before her. Her voice quiet and soft, telling a story in a language Clarke doesn’t understand. 

She can’t see Clarke, her body hidden behind the horse, lost in the task. 

Clarke stands still, hardly breathing. Not wanting to break this moment. Wanting to understand more of this enigma of a girl. 

It gets quiet for a moment, her story trailing off. The horse shifts, as if asking for more. Ears flicking back and forth. 

“Do you always make it a hobby to eavesdrop, _sassenach_?” 

Clarke feels the blush creep into her cheeks, but she holds firm. 

“Only when my patients don’t come and see me for follow up.” 

“That’s an interesting excuse.” 

“Not an excuse, just the truth. Plus, I’ve learned from the best.” 

There’s a smirk on Lexa’s face, her eyes are bright when she steps around from the horse and looks at Clarke. 

“Ah, and so you’re only doing your duty to come here and check on me?” 

“Yes. I’d be a poor practitioner if I didn’t.” Something inside of her loosens it’s fierce hold when Lexa smiles again. The joke clear in her eyes. 

“Can’t have that, now can we?” Lexa exits the stall and stands before Clarke, tall and proud. 

Clarke tugs at her arm, raises it and checks the joint. The bruising that’s faded away. “I’d be more comfortable if you hadn’t gotten rid of the sling.” 

“Aye, you would. But I’m clearly more comfortable without it. Seems we are at an impasse.” Her eyebrow cocks and her face softens and the way the half smile seems to burrow into her cheeks gets to Clarke. 

“I’ll have to take these stitches out in a few days. Will you make me chase you down here for that as well?” 

“Maybe you can teach these brutes something if you do,” Lexa whispers. 

She is right there and so close and so _maddening_. 

Clarke holds her breath. Feels herself lifting. 

Only to move away at the last second. 

Trying to control her breathing. The blood rushing in her ears. 

Lexa bows her head and sighs. Clarke doesn’t let herself hope it’s disappointment. Trying to understand the urge that just came over her.

“Is that all you required of me, _sassenach_?” 

“Yes. I’ll,” she stutters over her words. “I will be going now. If you… If you need me, you know where to find me.” 

“Aye.” She barely hears Lexa as she stumbles out of the stables, ignoring the blistering looks of that same rude handmaiden just outside.

 

Xx

 

The last thing she expects is for Lexa to settle on the long bench across from her at dinner. That smile in her eyes. 

Settled and looking at Clarke. 

She spoons up her stew without a word as Clarke regards her for a long moment. 

Her own stew forgotten before her. 

Lexa reaches out to grab the small roll that sits in front of Clarke’s bowl, but she slaps it away. 

And then that smirk is back. 

Maddening and familiar. 

Just like the girl who bears it. 

They eat in silence for a long moment. Clarke taking in smaller spoonfuls of stew, if only to prolong this… whatever this is for as long as she can. 

She can feel the heavy look from that girl on her from across the room. Watching her interactions with Lexa with a scowl. 

It makes Clarke’s stomach turn. Uneasy. 

“That girl, she’s always looking at me with a sour face.” 

“What girl?” Lexa asks around a bite of food, her head down but her attention focused on Clarke’s words. 

“The one that,” Clarke blushes, thinking about her actions this afternoon again. How she almost… “The one with the dark curly hair,” she amends quickly. 

“Ah.” Lexa nods and looks up again, her eyes that same soft green. “Pay no mind. She is wary of anyone new.” 

“Lexa, she watches me like a hawk looking for a mouse in the fields.” 

“That is because…” Lexa trails off and blushes, runs her hand over the back of her neck. It’s endearing, how nervous she becomes. “Just, pay her no mind, _sassenach._ ” 

She holds Clarke’s gaze for a long moment, something sparkling between them until the moment is broken by a loud laugh near the fire. 

When Clarke still doesn’t resume eating, Lexa looks up again, her voice gentler than ever before. It has the same softness as it did when she was telling stories to the horses. 

“Costia knows her place. Please do not worry, Clarke.” 

Clarke’s heart flips in the chest. Both from the ease with which she converses with Clarke, but also with the way Clarke’s name leaves her lips. 

With a deep breath, Clarke nods and begins eating again. They settle into a quiet conversation. Lexa asks more about the herbs Clarke has been using, tells her more about the day to day life at Leoch. 

It finally turns to what Clarke was dreading, though expecting each day the topic was still not broached. 

“Your husband?” Lexa asks quietly, her eyes settled on the simple band that rests on Clarke’s finger. 

She swallows hard, only telling half a lie. 

“Not alive.” 

And the truth of it slams into Clarke again as she remembers touching stones and waking up in the past. Finn is not alive. Not at this moment. 

Perhaps he never was as alive as the vibrant being that has stolen all of her attention and who now sits before her. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be. It was a long time ago.” Or it _is_ a long time ago now. Her real life seeming farther and farther by the second. 

“As long as you’re here with the clan you’ll be protected, _sassenach_. But when, if, we venture out…” Lexa leaves it there and Clarke knows. 

She saw the vicious and brutal scrums already. 

Falling into one before she knew which way was up. 

The silence falls over them again. Lexa scrapes her bowl with a smile and looks like she might leave. Clarke hands over her roll, and ignores the warmth that spreads in her belly at the genuine look on Lexa’s face. 

“You’re always in the stables,” she blurts, too flustered and needing to break the moment. 

“Aye.” 

“Why?” 

“I like it. It’s quiet. No one expects anything from me when I’m there.” 

“Not even Costia?” Clarke tries to tease, tries to get what she truly wants out of this conversation. Her tone doesn’t sound right, even in her own ears. 

Lexa sends her a frustrated look that borders on something else. 

“Not even Costia. She is young, she does not understand the ways of the clan….” Lexa drifts off, looking at Clarke again. “She is young.” 

Clarke nods and falls silent again, hearing what Lexa is saying between words. And yet, she cannot handle the way Lexa studies her. Listens to the thoughts instead that poke in the back of her mind. Letting the words come to the forefront without regard for decorum. 

Wanting all the truths she can get, while she can get them. 

“I’ve seen how people regard you here. How they listen when you speak. And yet you hide away.” 

There is a flash of darkness that crosses the green eyes in front of her, “Don’t speak of things you do not understand.” 

Lexa stands abruptly, a fire and intensity coursing through her that was not there a moment ago. It shocks Clarke. 

It shocks Clarke how much she understands Lexa in this moment. This second. 

She watches Lexa stalk away, apologies dried up in her mouth. 

Regret churning through her.

 

Xx

 

Her own gasp is loud and echos around the walls when she wakes up. 

She remembers then. 

She remembers truths from a dream that felt real. 

And perhaps it was real. 

In another life. 

The warning in the old woman’s words. The heavy way they fell from her lips as she studied Clarke’s tea leaves. Her palm. 

When the men secreted away to their study, leaving the two alone with their tea. 

How Mrs. Graham found the life line on Clarke’s palm and said nothing for a very long time. How Clarke’s heart gripped in her chest fearing the worst. 

How the discovery of what resided in her skin felt unreal only then. 

But becoming more solidified by the second. 

How her life line was chopped up. 

“ _Your life will change markedly,”_ she said. “ _This_ _is not a pattern I’ve ever seen before, my dear.”_  

Clarke shot up in a cold sweat before the dream could play out. Before she could hear the rest, in the calming brogue of Mrs. Graham, who looked at her with calmness and warmth and a hint of darkness simmering in her eyes. 

She doesn’t need to hear it again, it was only a few days ago. A few days and a few hundred years. 

She’s up out of bed and out of her room before she can think, second guess it. 

The floor in the hall is cold on her bare feet, and she’s still in her nightdress, feeling the chill through the drafty windows on her sweaty skin. 

It’s only a few steps to the door. The door that is as unassuming as the rest, but Clarke’s heart is still pounding in her chest. 

The dream is not fading. The words still so real. 

The warning that Clarke now understands coated them. 

It claws at her until she forces herself to knock. 

Once. 

Twice. 

It opens slowly, and she can breathe easier just looking at the confused face on the other side. She almost hates how her body reacts. 

“Clarke?” The way she says it wakes up Clarke even more. The way Clarke’s name rolls off of her lips so easily. Just as it did at dinner. The lilt. The new sounds to the vowels. 

It’s all right and good and it feels overwhelming. Lexa is half asleep and half awake and not teasing, not pulling down a mask. This is her in her truest form. 

And Clarke relaxes just a smidge. 

Lexa looks at her with wide eyes, her head leaning on the door waiting for Clarke. 

Another wave washes over Clarke. “I just,” she stops. “I’m, I’m…” She feels tears welling in her eyes and confusion gripping her thoughts. “Lexa, I…” 

Lexa opens the door further and moves aside. 

She gestures into her room and waits for Clarke to follow. 

Stepping into Lexa’s space, into her room, is the safest Clarke’s felt in this new old world. 

And that claws at her, too.

  



	4. Chapter 4

Clarke is shaken. Sweaty.

Her eyes wide and searching.

Her face wan.

Lexa excuses herself to get some tea and Clarke almost looks like she wants to grab her arm and not let go.

It’s the most unguarded she’s ever seen her. No longer fighting with everything she’s got to keep her wits about her, not straight-backed and fierce as the clan tries to know her. Not trying to keep everything inside.

No.

This is Clarke as she _is_.

The tea warms quickly and she brings it back upstairs with biscuits. Clarke stands staring at the edge of the bed, as if she can’t decide if it was improper to sit upon it.

“Clarke,” Lexa keeps her voice soft, tries not to disturb the moment.

Clarke doesn’t answer but tilts her head to the side.

“You may sit, Clarke.”

Clarke sits gingerly, not even fully on the edge of the bed, but half standing. Stock still and eyes still wide like a deer in the woods. Lexa hands over a cup of tea from the tray and Clarke grabs it with both hands, pulling the warmth into her body.

She stares at the fire with a blank face.

Lexa hardly breathes for fear of scaring her.

“I had a nightmare. I feel foolish.”

Finally.

Lexa steps closer, relaxes a bit.

“Do you need to talk about it?”

She shakes her head and sips at her tea.

“I didn’t want to be alone anymore. I’m always alone here.”

Her revelation stings at Lexa.

She knows what it’s like to be alone. To be stared at.

To hide where no one can judge or talk.

She sits on the bed, leaving acres of space between their bodies. There’s a bit of guilt that bubbles up at Clarke’s confession. She hasn’t tried to help as much as she should have, she has let Clarke and her anger settle as much as possible.

“Aye,” she replies, with a heavy sigh.

“I was never this alone. I’m not used to it. During the war-” She cuts herself off and takes a sip.

Lexa doesn’t miss it but doesn’t question it. Not yet. She wants Clarke to trust her.

She needs Clarke to trust her.

Like she needs to breathe.

And she isn’t quite sure why.

Her anger at Clarke’s pointed questions over dinner has long since faded.

Now there is only curiosity and a desire to ease some of the pain she can see on Clarke’s face. The kind of pain that sits under the skin and waits for the right moment to rear up.

It is an old friend to Lexa.

Clarke sips at her tea and closes her eyes as she swallows, steeling herself. “I was always surrounded by noise and people and I never stopped moving. And now my husband is gone and I’m here where it’s quiet, even with the clan here. It’s so _quiet._ The apothecary feels like a tomb sometimes.”

There is a pang in Lexa’s chest. Her hand twitches on her thigh, aching to reach out and grab Clarke’s.

“You should spend some time in the barn. The animals can’t talk but they’re comforting.”

“Is that why you’re there so much?” Clarke finally turns her attention to Lexa, and something inside of Lexa loosens. It’s reminiscent of their conversation earlier this evening, but the Clarke who is asking know is different.

“Some of it.”

She pauses, thinking it over. Lexa sits quietly and waits, allows Clarke to lead this conversation wherever she needs it to go.“Do they really think I’m a witch?” Clarke’s voice shakes on the term.

“Your healing prowess is unlike anything we’ve seen before. I believe it’s because you’re simply better than anyone.” Lexa holds her eyes. Remains calm and steady in her answer. Swallowing her own anger at their situation.

“I’m not a witch.”

“I know.”

“I just,” She stops but rethinks her words. “I had a nightmare and I…”

Lexa feels the blush begin and wills Clarke not to notice. It creeps up the back of her neck and she prays to whoever may be listening that her hair hides it.

“You may rest here, Clarke. I need to be in the stables soon.”

Clarke nods. She doesn’t move for another stretch of time, her eyes beginning to droop as they study the low fire in the hearth. Her body seemingly waiting for Lexa’s permission to relax.

Lexa reaches over and takes the cup gently from her hands, her eyes signaling for Clarke to lie back. She does, her eyes closing again before they hit the pillow. Lexa pulls the quilts over her shoulders and studies her sleeping face.

She ignores the warning sign that shoots through her belly, studying Clarke’s face for a long moment, how her brow is still furrowed even in sleep. It sits inside Lexa and she aches again to reach out and smooth her hand over the wrinkles that reside there. She sighs and steps away, choosing instead to pull the chair closer to the fire and wrap herself in an extra blanket.

She cannot feel this way.

She will not.

 

Xx

 

Soft feet rustle into the barn, trying to remain quiet but the shuffle of excited horses signal the arrival.

Lexa takes a deep breath and hopes that it’s not Costia.

The girl has been spending more and more time ignoring her duties to bother Lexa while she completes her own. Sending her flirty glances and soft words that Lexa does not want to hear, does not encourage.

The footsteps come to a stop and Lexa looks up over the wide back of the horse she’s brushing, already prepared to let the other girl down easy.

Instead, it is Clarke who pops her head over the stall with curious eyes and a hidden smile. Lexa lets out the breath she had been holding, feeling lighter and happier in an instant

“I brought you some lunch.”

“Lunch is lovely.”

Clarke bites her lip and looks away while Lexa finishes brushing the sheen into a glossy black rump. The horse shifts next to her trying to get attention from their visitor, and Clarke reaches out to pat a soft nose.

“Thank you… for last night.”

“You are welcome, _sassenach_.”

That earns her a smile. Lexa exits the stall and drops the wooden brush into her tack bucket, spying the basket at Clarke’s feet.

“Did you swipe that fresh loaf of bread from the kitchen?” She teases, knowing how much Madge hates giving away bread before dinner.

“It was willfully given to me, thank you.” Clarke teases back and Lexa’s stomach somersaults again.

“You must be a sweet talker. Madge never gives away bread.”

“You forget, everyone here is afraid of me.” Clarke tries to keep her voice light, but Lexa can see the way the truth stings.

“I’m not.” She waits for Clarke to look at her.

“You’re different…”

Lexa leads her out of the barn into the sun just peering from behind the morning clouds.

She doesn’t know how to respond to Clarke’s soft words, her revelation, so she simply smiles and sets the basket down on a fresh bale of hay ready to enjoy her meal.

 

Xx

 

Gustus finds them as they’re packing up, bellies full and warm from the sun. The orders have come down to move to camp a few miles north to ready the men. They’re being sent to call the arms together.

“Gustus…” Lexa warns, wanting to keep the truth from Clarke for just a bit longer. Watching her brow furrow at the news.

“It’s from Titus, his mind will not be changed.”

“Rantings of an old lunatic,” she grumbles.

“How long will you be gone?” Clarke asks. Not bothering to look shy at speaking out of turn.

“That is none of your concern.” Gustus’ voice is clipped when he answers, his rage barely withheld.

“She’ll be coming along, naturally.” Lexa supplies, more worried about leaving Clarke here alone with men who don’t trust her than bringing her on the road.

“Absolutely not.”

“What?”

Clarke and Gustus respond over each other.

Lexa nods and stands, wiping her hands on her kilt. “It’s settled. It was discussed when we first arrived here. I will not leave her here with this lot. They, you, _all of you_ heathens think she’s a witch or the devil incarnate or a bad omen. I’m the only one that seems to trust her, I took her into my care, she comes or I stay.”

Gustus at least has the decency not to respond to Lexa’s statement, though his mouth opens and closes with three separate retorts before he turns and huffs, swearing under his breath.

“Lexa?” Clarke looks hesitant, those same furrows in her brow that Lexa has come to hate.

“It is my duty to protect you, Clarke. I will not leave you here out of sight with them, with Titus.”

“I thought I was safe here?”

“You are.” She means it, but a tingle creeps up the back of her neck. She remembers the way Titus bristled at her orders. “You are safe here, you have the protection of the clan. But-”

“So you just want to exert your will over me then? Over them?” She turns on a dime and that flash of anger that Lexa had grown to recognize anywhere is back.

When Lexa doesn’t respond, she continues.

“What are you not telling me? Am I safe or not, Lexa? Am I a guest of the clan or your prisoner?”

The same anger she can see on Clarke’s face flares through her. “You are under _my_ _protection_ , Clarke. Because you need to be. Because we still do not know anything about you. I trust that what you say is true, but I cannot trust that these fools will understand that. So you will come with me until we have had more time to settle. This had already been decided when we introduced you to Titus.”

The odd sort of strangeness she can feel wafting off of Clarke gets stronger. She does not want Clarke out of her sight, would not be able to handle anything happening to her. The decision is for the best, the clan is still reeling with her in their midst. Titus has still been obvious in his displeasure with her presence.

Clarke grits her teeth and crosses her arms, remembering the discussion they had on their first day at Leoch.

“We leave in an hour, pack some things and meet me back here.”

She leaves the barn before Clarke can answer, before their argument can continue.

Before Lexa can voice her true reasoning.

Clarke isn’t ready. Not yet.

 

Xx

 

An hour later, Lexa finds herself swinging into the saddle of her mount and sending Clarke a reassuring smile. Clarke adjusts the reins of her own horse and grumbles a bit under her breath.

“You’re going to love the highlands, _sassenach_. They’ll win you over so you’ll never want to leave.”

Clarke scoffs, still clearly sore with her and the turn of events they’ve been dealt.

“That’s a good mount you’ve got.” She earns a glare for her efforts and feels proud.

“Alright, then. Stay close.” She nudges her heels and settles into the saddle, smiling freely at the grumble she hears behind her.

It’s a long ride to the camp, and they settle after dusk has descended. The small group moves quickly to get a fire started and get the tents up. Clarke keeps up with her and does well enough in the saddle, though Lexa notices the way her hands tighten on the reins from time to time. They don’t speak, but Clarke relaxes in the saddle the farther they get away from Leoch.

She hops out of her saddle and rounds to Clarke’s side, helping steady her as she drops down, her legs shaky and almost giving way. She blushes when she notices that it’s Lexa’s hands around her waist.

Lexa holds them there until Clarke turns her head and breaks her out of it. The tips of her own ears pinking up.

She clears her throat and steps back. “We should have had you practice your riding skills, _sassenach_.”

  



	5. Chapter 5

Clarke’s ass is sore and her hands are chapped from the wind and her hair is a nest all of its own when the riders finally make it to camp just as night falls. 

Lexa’s horse was steadfast next to Clarke’s. Almost as if her mount needed the friendly companion more than his rider. 

She chanced glances towards Clarke. 

Clarke felt her eyes on her from time to time, felt warmth bloom in her stomach.

A warmth that felt better than even the thickest Scottish wools ever could.

But they were silent as the ride continued. Clarke still stubbornly nursing her pride and Lexa riding patiently beside her listening to the men grumble. Watching the sun move across the sky. 

Her temper faded with Lexa there, with a presence that was more soothing than it had ever been. Steady and strong astride her horse. Gentle and quiet.

And Clarke had to struggle to remember why she didn’t want to go on this venture in the first place. Why she had been so irate with the girl as they were leaving Leoch.

 

Xx

 

Dusk has settled by the time they stop to make camp. The riders ahead had already started pulling up tents and settling the animals.

Lexa’s hands catch her as she dismounts and drops off her horse, her knees buckling and her thighs screaming. But Lexa’s hands are a steadying force, just like the girl they belong to. She keeps them there until Clarke can stand without wobbling. Until Clarke can turn around and will her heart to stop fluttering in her chest.

It doesn’t, not when she sees the soft look on Lexa’s face. How the tips of her small ears pink up. 

She clears her throat and swallows down the odd disappointment when Lexa steps away and takes the horse to follow her own. Not even the way she teases Clarke on her way out can dampen this strange feeling that’s clutched at her chest.

Instead, Clarke clears her head with the air she can breathe now that Lexa has walked away. Takes in the remainder of the camp.

The lodgings are sparse. 

Thrown together.

It doesn’t look like a camp of soldiers. Fighters.

They look like an unorganized band of rabble-rousers. 

Clarke supposes that’s why they’re here. Why Gustus gathered Lexa and asked her to come with them, to unite these foolhardy men into something worthwhile. 

Clarke has seen the esteem hiding behind the eyes of the men that crowd Castle Leoch whenever Lexa is around. Or her name is mentioned. 

She’s a leader even if she doesn’t want to admit it. 

Even if she hides with the horses, instead of around the fire with the men. 

The men who speak only in foreign tongues around her and most likely  _ about _ her. She can feel the uncouth looks they send her. Hear it in their vowels, the thoughts that run in their heads. 

Can sense Lexa’s growing anger from the distance. 

They don’t stop until much later.

Until Lexa gracefully sets herself next to Clarke on the cold, dead log and starts eating her small bowl of stew. It’s not enough. Not for the long ride, the long day. 

Lexa attacks her food with precision and keeps her head down as the talking continues. 

She answers all questions directed towards her in English.

Always in English. 

She levels looks at them whenever what they’ve said crosses a line. The glare is cold and calculating, her jaw rigid. 

It sends a chill down Clarke’s spine. She tells herself it’s due to the ice in Lexa’s eyes.

She wills herself to believe that excuse.

They talk about their plans for the morning, where they will begin rounding up more men to join the cause. Lexa is quiet and simply nods her head in agreement or offers one or two words when asked. She spends most of the time listening, observing. 

Her brow furrowed in thought. Her long fingers unsheathing her dagger and twisting it as she does. Turning it all over. 

Planning.

She looks up once or twice to share silent looks with Gustus across the flames. Gustus who always seems to understand exactly what she is thinking. Who cuts in and interrupts whatever dialogue is happening with his own booming voice.

And when the men begin passing out, she shows Clarke to her tent. The one farthest away from the fire and what will surely be a rowdy crowd on any night that doesn’t involve travel. The small one with two bedrolls spread onto the cold ground. 

Clarke turns and appraises her with a questioning eye. 

Lexa merely shrugs. “They’re short on space,  _ sassenach _ . it’s either this or you’re sleeping with the horses.”

Clarke can’t stop the laugh that bubbles out even though she’s trying to hold on to her dismay at the close quarters. “I’m sorry, or _ I’m _ sleeping with the horses?”

Lexa’s lips quirk up in a smile. “You heard me. I’m old, seasoned. Respected. You’re new, an outsider. We usually leave you lot to the dogs.”

Clarke steps inside the tent and ignores the hidden warning in Lexa’s words. She’ll be safe here. 

She’ll be safe with Lexa. 

“You had better not snore.” 

“I’m as quiet as a mouse,  _ sassenach _ .”

 

Xx

 

It’s warmer, with Lexa in the tent. 

Sharing the space and the heat.

She is quiet and still and heartbreakingly beautiful in her sleep.

An ache builds somewhere inside Clarke, in her half-awake dream state. An ache to reach out and pull Lexa closer. 

To touch and hold this wild, magnificent thing.

To claim her.

But she can’t. 

Not like this.

Maybe not ever.

Her new life in the Highlands becoming more real and solidified with each passing day.

And yet it still feels like a dream.

She doesn’t fight it. Not in this state.

Not warm and safe and on the edge of sleep. 

Not with the beautiful girl with a hand under her chin who sleeps soundly.

Not with feelings blooming inside that feel as visceral as the pull that brought her to the stones. To this place.

No, she doesn’t fight it. Allows herself these moments to feel it. To realize it. To cherish it.

And she slips into the easiest sleep she’s had since landing.

 

Xx

 

The tent is empty when she wakes. Lexa’s bedroll is tidied and her small area straightened.

Almost as if she was never there.

It’s all a dream to Clarke. 

Everything. 

Every single moment. 

Clarke wakes up awash in the same feeling she held on to as she fell asleep. Smiles as she stretches her bones and listens to the noises outside. 

The ones that involve heavy voices and harsh words, men arguing with each other by the fire and growling over breakfast.

Clarke straightens up and exits the tent, the grass still dewy in the new day. The chill of the night still heavy in the air. She looks over and finds Lexa there in the center of it all. Her lips in a tight line, her back straight, her hands tense at her sides. 

Her heart skips a beat, unprepared for the image of her there. 

Commanding.

Clarke doesn’t understand a word being said, but Lexa is the one barking. Lexa is the one making noise.

Lexa’s hand is the one that flexes near her dagger.

It’s too much for Clarke. Too many thoughts swirl and race around her head and she struggles to remember the past few days. The strange world and the frustration at being pulled along for the ride.

She hides among the horses instead, finding her mount and greeting him. Grabbing the empty water bucket to fetch fresh water for him from the nearby stream. 

It happens quickly then. 

The flash of red in the trees catches her off guard. The familiar drill of her own accent being spoken back to her. 

The charming smile on the young man’s face.

“Are you lost, miss?”

She startles, “Oh, no. I’m fetching some water for my horse.”

“Your horse? Where is he?”

Wariness takes over. “Where he needs to be.”

The soldier hums. “What brings you to Scotland?”

“What brings you to Scotland?” She sasses back. It’s the wrong move and she knows it as soon as the words leave her lips.

“Are you with those boys passing themselves off as soldiers back there?”

Fear hits her belly. “What boys?”

“Are you working with them? Sent to spy on us, going against your crown and country and everything good?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I better be getting back.”

He steps closer in an instant, “No. No, I don’t think you’ll be going back there. I think you’ll be coming with me.” 

His eyes are dark and ravenous and he grips Clarke’s elbow tightly, pulling her upstream and into the forest.

And she wonders, as she fights the bile that rises up the back of her throat, if she will ever learn her lesson and stop wandering off.

 

Xx

 

The British camp is the complete opposite from the clan’s. It’s clean and tidy and organized. Clarke is lead into a large, warm tent

She’s given tea, which she doesn’t drink, and scones, which she doesn’t eat. She’s studied by the older men in the room, the ones who stand by the fire quietly talking about her as if she cannot hear. 

Finally, she’s left alone with the Captain.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but I did not catch your name?”

“Miss Griffin.” Clarke is curt.

“Were you captured? Kidnapped by the heathens otherwise known as clansmen?”

“No.”

“Why are you so close to a British camp? Have you been sent to spy?” He moves closer, studying her. Searching for tells.

“Why does everyone think I’m a goddamned spy?” Clarke growls before she realizes her misstep.

“What are you doing with the clan?” His voice turns hard. His patience with her gone.

“I was lost. Separated from my travel party. We’ve been exploring the area of Inverness. Making our way around Scotland before perhaps heading to France to visit some family.” 

It’s still not exactly a lie, even if it’s the same story she’s honed now, having told it over and over again.

“Where is your group now?” His voice is calm but his eyes are still calculating. It’s a tactic, a test for her to pass or fail. 

Her heart skips a beat and her insides tense when she thinks about Lexa back at the camp. Is she looking for Clarke? Does she know that Clarke is even gone?

“I’m not sure, I was separated from them.”

He coughs. Turns more fully towards Clarke.

“Well, we can’t have you wandering around out here alone. And I shudder to think of you back with those scoundrels. A lovely woman such as yourself.” His eyes rake over her. “We’ll give you a place here with us until we can arrange for travel back to London.”

“With all due respect, I do not wish to return to London, sir.” Clarke holds firm. Her hands itching, anxiety clawing at her.

The London she knows was ravaged by the war. Bombs and bullets and blood.

The London that exists now is nothing she would even recognize.

“Well, you cannot stay here with us, though I’m sure we could make good use of you.”

He’s openly leering. Clarke aches to claw his eyes out.

“I will go back to the clan. They have provided me food and shelter thus far.” 

“Absolutely not. A British woman does not belong with the likes of them.”

“They have been kind and respectful so far.”

He is about to answer Clarke when a commotion can be heard outside the tent, growing louder and louder. A soldier bursts in, out of breath and frazzled. “Sir, one of  _ them _ is here to see you.”

“I’m busy.”

“It’s about  _ her _ .”

Clarke’s heart nearly bursts in her chest imagining Lexa, wild and angry and coming to collect her.

“Send him away.” 

“He said he will not leave until the girl is in his care.”

It falls just as quickly when she realizes her rescuer is a man.

The Captain spits, “Fine. Send the man in.”

Gustus hurls himself into the tent seconds later, eyes on Clarke looking for injuries. “Are you well?”

She nods, not trusting her voice to speak. 

“I'll be taking her now,”  he directs to the Captain who smiles.

“We were just arranging her a trip back to London. Why do you think she’d go with you?”

“She belongs to us.”

“She belongs to the Crown.”

Clarke’s cheeks flare with her anger. She  _ belongs _ to no one.

“This woman has been in our care and will continue to be in our care until she no longer wishes to be. You are on Scottish soil. She is of the clan and the rule of the clan prevails.”

His smile grows wider. “The rule of the clan? So that means she’s promised to one of you?”

“Aye.” He nods and Clarke’s heart stops in her chest.

“Well, I will be sure to send my regards when appropriate. I suspect that Miss Griffin will be an honest woman within the month, no?”

Something thick and heavy lodges itself in the back of Clarke’s throat. 

She nods slowly, accepting what Gustus has offered. Accepting the out. The return to the clan. The eventual return to the stones.

Back to her real life.

No longer stuck in this old fantasy. Her stomach sinks at the thought of going back, a feeling she doesn’t quite understand. It was always her plan, to find her way back to the stones and back to the life she left behind.

But that buzzing rings in her ears for just a moment, drowning out the conversation that fills the room. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, willing it to go away. When it does, she finds that they have paid her no mind.

The two men exchange a few more sentences between each other, but Clarke doesn’t hear them. Cannot hear them. Though the buzzing is gone she can think only of her future. 

Only of the promise she must make to another.

The ache that fills her when she thinks about the soft green eyes who have watched her since she landed on this version of earth.

The ones who will be heartbroken before the moon has reset.

Gustus sweeps her out of the tent, gruff and quick, setting a blistering pace all the way back to the camp. 

Clarke’s heart grows heavy with each footfall, her stomach knotting into itself and her vision blurred.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you for the lovely notes on this fic! I am glad you're all enjoying the journey thus far.


	6. Chapter 6

The flash of blonde appears along the trail after an eternity. A scowl on her face as she tramps through the mud next to Gustus. 

Looking just as big and angry as he is, though she is much smaller in size. 

The fear that gripped Lexa’s heart relaxes for a second. A beat.

Neither one of them look happy and the cloud in Clarke’s eyes bodes well for no one. Lexa has learned that much in her short time with the Brit. She doesn’t even look up and try to find Lexa.

It’s something Lexa had grown used to, fond of, in her presence. The way Clarke’s eyes seem to search for her wherever they go. Whether she realizes it or not, the habit has become second nature.

Whether Lexa acknowledges it or not, allows Clarke to know her gaze is being cataloged, she always feels it. 

Always.

Instead, in this moment, Clarke keeps her gaze directed downward.

They storm into camp and everyone turns, quiets. Gustus tosses Clarke towards her tent with a fire in his eyes Lexa hasn’t seen since she was a child. Clarke doesn’t fight it, doesn’t bother to look up, simply retreats to the tent like a puppy with her tail between her legs. 

Gustus greets the rest of the men around the fire. Begins explaining what happened in the British encampment. There’s a deep growl in his voice and his hand twitches near his sword.

Lexa tries to listen. Knows she should be listening.

But she only hears half the words. 

Wanting instead to check on Clarke.

Can think of nothing else. Wondering if she’s hurt. If she’s well. How she got taken by them in the first place. 

Again.

Wants to scream at her for being so foolish. 

Again. 

Wants to yell and rant and remind her that this happened the last time and she cannot keep wandering off. They’re already watching her. Waiting for her to slip up. 

Lexa feels her own jaw working with her frustration. 

Hearing Gustus’ words but not listening.

Not listening until the word union rolls from his lips.

“What?”

Everyone snaps to attention with her surprised yell. 

Gustus looks at her with a raised brow, his voice softer as he repeats his last few sentences. 

“In order to get Clarke out of there, I had to declare her a part of the clan. You know how this goes, Lexa. We are taking care of her but now that the British know about her they want to ship her off to London. I had no other choice.”

“Yes, you did.” Lexa feels her fists clench at her sides and something rise up hot and angry in her gut.

“The girl must be protected if we are going to get her back to her family. The only way to do that is to ensure she stays with the clan.”

“You offered her no choice in the matter.” 

“Are you happy she’s back here or not? I can sooner return her to the red coats if you like.”

“There are other ways to protect her.” It’s a growl that rips through her. The idea turning her stomach.

“We have a month to figure it out, I’m sure we can come to a conclusion that will please everyone.”

Lexa doesn’t wait for anything else, instead turning sharply and stalking to her shared tent with Clarke.

The frustration and anger rising up again, mixing with the fear she tries to ignore but simply cannot.

Clarke startles when she lifts the flap back and storms inside. “ _ Christ _ !” A hand flies up to her chest and her eyes are wide.

“Sorry.” Lexa takes a breath and calms. “Sorry.”

Her eyes rake over Clarke, checking for injuries. Checking for anything amiss. 

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” Clarke bites back.

That sets Lexa’s adrenaline moving again. “That was foolish, Clarke. Ridiculous even.”

Clarke glares at her.

“I can’t-” she stops. “How did you-” stops again, clears her throat. “You could have been killed! Or-”

“ _ I know _ !” Clarke yells. Stands and yells. 

The full force of her anger and frustration and anxiety aimed at Lexa. 

They stand like that for a moment. Breathing heavily and taking stock of each other. It becomes too big for Lexa too soon. 

“You’re lucky we found you.”

“I’m lucky  _ Gustus _ found me.”

She shoots Clarke a glare to rival her own. “Don’t.”

“You say you care. You say you’re in charge of me. That you want to make sure I’m safe and yet, Gustus is the one who got me out of there.”

She knows it’s a losing argument. Knows that Clarke cannot see what is right in front of her. So she leaves the tent. Pulls the flap back again and takes one step outside. Looking back at the angry thing in the middle of the tent. 

“If I had come to get you like I wanted to, I wouldn’t have walked out of there.”

She lets the flap fall behind her and makes her way to the training area.

 

Xx

 

Clarke is asleep by the time she returns to the tent. It’s well into the night and she’d be lying to herself if she didn’t admit she was hiding with the horses. 

Again.

The long day of sparring with the incompetent men they’ve gathered to their cause has her tired and sore and frustrated.

Until she lays eyes on the enigma of a woman before her and it’s all lost to the wind. 

She stumbles onto her bedroll and tries to fall asleep but thoughts of Clarke keep her awake. 

The disappointment on her face. The fear that she was lost for good. Broken and bloodied by the British army. The realization that she will be required to join with someone. One of her clansmen. 

One of her people. 

It sinks into her stomach like a stone. 

She shouldn’t be surprised to see Clarke’s eyes open and studying her when she chances another glance, but she is.

Clarke looks sad.

Worried.

Lexa holds her gaze for as long as she can. Watching as Clarke turns to face her more fully.

“What did you mean?”

She knew it was coming, she just didn’t think it would happen in the darkest part of the night.

“There’s a bounty on my head.” The truth comes spilling free, simple and honest, needing to be said in this moment. 

Clarke’s eyes darken. Her features become hard.

“Why did you come so close to them then? Something could happen to  _ you _ .”

“I will be fine. I know how to hide when I need to and fight when I need to.”

“You’re just as foolish as I am.”

“Aye,  _ sassenach _ .” She can’t help the way her voice softens in the dark. The way the term of endearment rolls off her tongue.

“We shouldn’t be here. _ I  _ shouldn’t be here.”

The words sting.

No answer presents itself before Clarke continues.

“I was married. I had a husband, and now…” Her voice trails off and she looks around the tent. "I had a husband I didn't love but he's gone....and now I will be forced to take another." It's barely louder than a whisper, but Lexa can hear the anxiety in her voice.

“We have time to figure something out. I will not have you do anything you do not want to, I will protect you, I swear it.”

Clarke doesn’t speak again. She studies Lexa with a quiet grace. Her eyes feel gentle and soothing and Lexa craves more of it.

More of what she cannot have.

 

Xx

 

A week passes.

A long week.

They move to another village. Farther away from the British encampment and safer for Lexa to lie low.

Clarke stays closer to Lexa than before. Trusts her. Confides in her.

Tells her stories.

Brings her food.

Finds her when she’s working with the horses and offers her assistance. Working alongside Lexa with a quiet ease. Her hesitance around the animals fading with each passing day.

Lexa studies her as she heals the men who are stubborn and wounded.

Tired and dehydrated.

Doesn’t let them get away with their usual nonsense. Puts them firmly in place and takes no guff. She’s never seen them react to anyone the way they react to her.

She just commands her own presence to be felt.

And Lexa watches as the boys begin to moon over her. Flirt and puff out their chests. Pull out their worst attempts at lines.

Attempting to show off.

It never works.

Clarke laughs and offers them endearing pats on the back or sass, but she never returns the advances. Never even seems to hear them or see them. 

She simply finds Lexa again and again. With her eyes, or showing up wherever Lexa is unannounced in that calm way she has.

Stands in the training ground and watches as Lexa bests the boys around her in the training ring when they’re distracted. Putting them on the ground, or in a hold.

Her prowess outshining anything they could attempt. The men embarrassed and trying to save face in front of the new, strange woman who must pick a suitor.

But Clarke never seems to see that.

No, Clarke never looks at any of them the way she starts looking at Lexa.

Lexa tries to ignore the way Clarke’s eyes find her.

How they begin to shine out to her.

With a softness.

A fondness.

It tears into Lexa like a hot blade.

And she cannot stand it.

It takes a week before Gustus makes his intentions clear.

Offers a union with Clarke.

Offers to keep her safe.

Bile rises up hot and quick in Lexa’s throat as she watches it unfold.

Until she looks at Clarke.

Clarke who is already gazing at her.

Clarke who shakes her head no and returns to her room after a polite refusal.

Clarke who catches Lexa’s eyes again as she passes by.

And Lexa feels that look everywhere.

Gustus merely sighs and approaches Lexa once Clarke is gone.

“You have to talk to her.”

“She will do as she pleases, Gustus.”

“She will see herself back in Britain before the next moon if that’s the case.” He is resigned to the truth of their situation, but Lexa will not have it.

“Clarke knows what she’s doing. You should trust her.”

He shakes his head, “She’s an unknown. Too much of a variable. I know she’s not a witch but the knowledge she possesses is advanced and came from somewhere… “

“You were just offering a union and yet you don’t trust her.”

There is a long pause where Gustus studies her. She feels the same as she did when she was a child and he would simply have to look at her stance or the way she held her weapon, before she was jumping to correct it. It’s the look of someone who knows her better than she would like. 

“You do,” he says softly. Pulling the truth from the air in that way he always does.

“I do.”

A flicker of a smile crosses Gustus’ big, bearded face.

“No.  _ No. _ Absolutely not.”

“For someone so smart, you are incredibly dense.”

“No.” Lexa marches away, her feet carrying her to the barn.

“She says no to all the men. Just think about it.” He calls after her and Lexa prays that Clarke cannot hear.

 

Xx

 

She does think about it.

Has.

_ Cannot stop _ .

Joining with Clarke would be…

_ Everything _ .

But she sees the conflict that lives in Clarke’s eyes.

On her shoulders.

A soul stuck between worlds.

Not entirely present.

She knows the way her palms feel when Clarke is near.

How her stomach flips.

How a buzzing fills her ears when Clarke looks at her and truly  _ sees _ her.

How even though Clarke is full of secrets and half-truths, she trusts her explicitly. Can see through all of the facade that to the person she is.

How she is captivating and breathtaking.

And Lexa has never felt this way for anyone else.

But she cannot.

Will not tie Clarke to this.

To the bounty.

To the clan.

To the duty she carries.

Clarke deserves more than this life.

Clarke deserves a choice.

 


	7. Chapter 7

It happened slowly.

As much as she fought it, it still  _ happened _ .

This acceptance of her fate.

Something brought her here. The same thing that takes her further and further away from the stones.

From her life.

Something bigger than her. Bigger than all of them.

Slowly, day by day,  _ this _ becomes her life.

She can tend to the soldiers here. Practice medicine.

Become a part of this rag-tag group the way she was on the battlefield a lifetime ago.

A lifetime or a year, no one knows.

The war had ended and she had gone home. Returned to her quaint life with Finn. The one she wasn’t sure if she wanted anymore. The one that had her searching and clawing at her skin. The one that did not feel right, the love that had vanished.

To go from being needed and demanded to…  _ nothing _ .

So quickly.

In the field she moved with precision. Unforgiving at times, soothing at others.

Her call to action was loud and reverberated through her soul.

Doing more than the doctors did.

The doctors who were in the battlefield fighting for their own lives.

She may have been a nurse, but Clarke knows in any hospital she would have been in charge.

Top dog.

It’s the same feeling that greets her every morning with the sun just warming the dew from the Scottish greenery.

_ Purpose _ .

She was needed here.

The spirits or the universe or whatever being lives in the stones felt it.  _ Pulled her here. _

Where she can be the person she became in the bombs.

The new Clarke.

The one that no longer seemed to fit in the world without war.

The one that no longer seemed to fit right with her husband.

The one that maybe never did.

The one that saw how what had once existed between them became ravaged and wrecked by the things they both went through. The things they went through alone and apart from each other. Being put back together into new people.

New people who don’t know how to be around each other anymore. How to love each other.

She relishes the sound of her maiden name falling from her lips again perhaps more than she should. But each new passing day solidifies what she already knows to be true.

She may never get back.

And she needs to belong  _ here _ .

Xx

A few weeks pass since her day spent at the British camp and the order rests over her head heavy like the rain clouds that roll in every afternoon.

She’s had countless proposals.

Even Gustus offered his protection.

But it’s not right.

It’s not…

She can’t.

Not like this.

Lexa becomes broody again.

Buttons herself up and trains the men all day. Bone tired and muddy every night at dinner, shuffling through the motions of eating with eyes half closed before she retires to her room.

It’s unnerving how quickly this reserved side reappears after their connection. After the trust Clarke felt bridging the gaps between them.

She watches Lexa in the training area.

How her body moves, lithe and lean around the men who can’t seem to pin her down. Can’t seem to follow how she dances seamlessly with the blade in her hand. Overpowers them again and again.

She catches Clarke’s eye more than a few times, but never holds it.

But always seemingly keenly away of Clarke’s presence.

The way it settles on her shoulders. How she longs to move, but stays in the mud. Readjusts her grip on the sword and pulls her partner up again for another round.

It stings.

Lexa is effectively ignoring her.

Becoming a stranger once again.

And Clarke hates it.

Their time together is running out.

Xx

A halfhearted knock sounds on the door of her workspace. A tiny closet off the kitchen, where she’s assembled some healing herbs and bandages. The men know where to find her when their training gets too hard. When Lexa gets that look in her eye and unleashes all of her pent up frustration on whoever her sparring partner happens to be.

Clarke has watched it happen from afar.

Lexa no longer showing that much emotion around her but reserving it all for the soldiers in her care.

Clarke sees it. Understands the ferocity that hides in that small frame. How unassuming she is.

Until her attack is unrepentant.

She turns, offering whoever fell victim today a soft smile as she greets the stranger at the door, only to find the girl herself.

Her smile falters, before growing larger.

Real and genuine for the Scot who runs around her head.

“You don’t look hurt.”

“It’s not me. One of the boys fell off his horse, leg’s snapped pretty cleanly.”

The flip into action mode is immediate as Clarke grabs her bag of supplies and hurries Lexa out the door.

Lexa who doesn’t budge.

“What are you waiting for? A broken leg is a serious injury!”

“He’s passed out right now.”

Lexa still doesn’t move from the doorway but adjusts her posture. Closes herself off and straightens her spine, hands moving behind her back.

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what, Clarke?”

“Don’t,” Clarke stops. Tries to gather her words but fails in the heat of the moment. Fails when she remembers there’s a broken leg outside and a whole mess of things swirling in her head. “Forget it.”

Lexa doesn’t drop it though. “What is it, Clarke?”

Clarke grumbles. “This is  _ not _ the time!”

All it takes is one look. Lexa, nonplussed as ever, still refusing to move but studying Clarke with a keen eye.

“You’re infuriating, do you know that? I hope you know that.  _ Infuriating _ ! We were doing well, you and I, and then Gustus-and now  _ you- _ not looking at me or talking to me and it’s infuriating. So, please don’t do that.”

It must be more emotion than she was expecting, because Lexa blinks and furrows her brows and tries to make sense of Clarke’s words.

Clarke whose cheeks burn red with anger or embarrassment or a mixture, finally brushes her aside and leaves.

Xx

It’s a long day after that.

She can’t do much for the boy, Seamus.

His leg is snapped clean through and he might not make it if infection sets in. But she’ll try her hardest to ward it off.

The faces around him are grim and she flashes back for a moment seeing a different time, different clothes and different noises. When she blinks, she’s back in the countryside.

She misses dinner, tending to him.

Making sure he’s propped up and comfortable in the bed they’ve set aside for him, but she knows it’s fruitless.

Even drugged with their opiates, he’ll feel the pain.

It will be a long night.

She misses dinner and returns to her room to wash up and fetch a book. She plans on sitting with Seamus through the night, plans on it, but becomes distracted once again by a certain brooding one.

The one holding a tray of food and a strange look on her face.

As if she’s scared.

Shy.

“You missed dinner,” Lexa offers as she gestures with the tray. Her voice is so gentle that is surprises Clarke, even though she always speaks that way around her. Clarke had never noticed before, the dichotomy of the warrior before her. The softness that lives in her core. That spills from her lips when it is only Clarke in her presence.

“Duty calls.” Clarke shrugs, trying to ignore the flutter in her belly while wrapping her shawl around her neck again. The warmth of the wool surprising and welcoming.

“You’re no good to anyone if you’re run down, _ sassenach _ .” Lexa hasn’t called her that in days. It startles her, how much she’s missed it.

“I’m  _ fine _ .”

Clarke tries to ignore the smell of the warm food wafting off the plate. Doesn’t let her eyes linger on the crusty bread that sits next to the bowl.

“No, you’re not. Someone is with him now and they’ll come and fetch you should anything go wrong. It’s time for you to rest.”

“Lexa,” Clarke asserts, stepping closer to the door.

Lexa shakes her head, “You have to trust us, too, Clarke. He’s being monitored. You need to rest and  _ eat _ .”

It’s a losing battle and she knows it. Can see the set of Lexa’s shoulders and knows the order probably didn’t come from her, but she will carry it out.

She sighs and grumbles and unwraps the shawl from her shoulders, sitting in the small chair by the fire.

“What did you bring me?”

“Venison and potatoes. I saved my bread for you.” Lexa keeps her eyes down with her admission.

“You didn’t have to do that…”

“I know. I wanted to.”

She sets the tray down for Clarke and stands straighter, her hands going behind her back again. “Be well,  _ sassenach _ .”

She almost makes it out the door before Clarke calls her back.

That familiar buzzing in her stomach.

“Lexa, wait.” Lexa turns, that expectant look on her face breaking Clarke’s heart. “Will you sit with me?”

It’s a small smile but a win as Lexa closes the door and settles by the fire. She doesn’t say anything, but her presence seems more relaxed than it has been of late. She folds her hands calmly in her lap and stares at the bursting flames in the fireplace.

Clarke digs into her food, hungrier than she realized, choking back a moan at the warm roasted meat that fills her mouth.

She’s almost through her meal before she speaks, craving more than food.

Craving something from Lexa.

“How many men did you embarrass today while training?”

Lexa perks up at that, a half smile on her face as she turns her attention to Clarke. There’s a hint of a cocky smirk, bordering on arrogant. It thrills Clarke.

“I’m not one to brag.”

“Sure you are. I see how you stalk around out there. You may not realize it, but you become someone else. Something else.”

Lexa’s eyes flicker for a second before she answers, “Yes, I do.”

Clarke takes in her face, hearing the unspoken words in Lexa’s answer.

“Well, as long as you know it.”  She takes a bite of the crusty bread before tearing it in half to share.

“No, I saved that for you.”

“I know how much you love bread, just take it. Please.” Clarke offers her a smile and nudges her hand forward, happiness blooming when Lexa accepts and bites into it. “You’re always trying to steal mine, so don’t act as if it was easy for you to set that aside.”

“It was the hardest part of my day.”

Xx

It gets easier after that. Seeing Lexa.

Who is suddenly everywhere and no longer avoiding her. The softness is back when she’s in Clarke’s presence and Clarke feels lighter knowing it.

Seamus hangs on, but Clarke knows he will struggle for the remainder of his life. It eats at her, that there isn’t more she can do. That the tools she knows could fix him aren’t available here. Don’t yet exist in this time or place.

It’s the first time she’s felt truly out of her element since her first week in this new present.

Lexa sits with her for meals again and regales her with tales of her day. Lexa drags her down to the barn to learn to properly care for her horse. Lexa shoots glares at anyone who dares to step out of line when it comes to harassing Clarke.

It’s all too much for Clarke and yet, she doesn’t stop it.

Encourages it.

After a late evening at the tavern in town, Lexa escorts her home. Her drinking finished long before Clarke’s. Clarke who challenged many of the men and won. Leaving behind a gaggle of bearded soldiers whining and stumbling around while she danced circles around them.

Clarke who learned how to drink while the world was crashing down.

Lexa brushes her shoulder against Clarke, avoiding a divot in the dirt road and Clarke  _ flutters _ .

And wonders if her soul was always meant to be here.

And if the stones pulled her back in time and righted the wrong.

“You’re quiet.”

“I’m focusing on getting us back.”

“You’re always quiet.”

“Aye.”

“I like it.”

She sees Lexa turn out of the corner of her eye. Feels Lexa watching her.

“You never talk about it though.”

“About what,  _ sassenach _ ?” She says the nickname softer than ever before and yes, Clarke feels something in this moment that she’s never felt.

“Lexa….”

“It’s not for me to discuss.”

Clarke almost loses the words to the night, so quietly they fall from Lexa’s lips.

“Yes it is.” It takes a few more steps before Clarke realizes Lexa still won’t break. “You were angry when Gustus approached me. I know it.”

“Why did you deny him? He is strong, he leads us. He would protect you well and provide for you.”

It’s a punch to the gut she was expecting. Wanted.

If only to finally tell Lexa the words she’s been holding back for weeks. The ones that have been racing through her mind all night with alcohol and merriment.

“I will not marry for obligation. Not even in this world, with this… _ demand _ .”

Lexa stops.

“In  _ this _ world?”

“I know you have your suspicions about me, Lexa.”

“And you will tell me in time.”

“Isn’t now the time?”

“No, not out here. Not like this.”

Lexa moves back into her space. Back by her side. “I know that I was right to trust you and I will not go back on that.”

“Nor will I.”

They make it back to their lodgings and Lexa bypasses her own door to walk Clarke to her room.  Her throat bobs with words unsaid. Her eyes swimming with feeling that is suddenly palpable.

“Say it,  _ please _ .” Clarke begs. The struggle in the girl before her making her dizzy.

“You said it would be an obligation, but it already is one. If the Captain finds you unwed to one of the Clan it would spell disaster. You  _ must _ know this, Clarke. I cannot be clearer and I worry-”

Clarke stops her. Cuts her off with a kiss.

Grabs her face and feels the warmth of her cheeks. The surprise apparent in lips that don’t move. That freeze up.

But Clarke stands steady and kisses this impossible girl. Once. Just to say she did.

Just to get it out of her system.

Knowing full well as soon as their lips meet it will be impossible.

She’s about to break away and apologize when Lexa finally sighs. Touches her hip and slides her lips to change the kiss.

And it all clicks into place.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the kind words, guys! Also, if you haven't seen it already, Nachos made ANOTHER AWESOME MANIP: https://femininenachos.tumblr.com/post/161392181568/moar-clexa-from-orangeyouglad8s-a-outlander


	8. Chapter 8

It takes her by surprise. Clarke always takes her by surprise.

Her lips soft and yet demanding.

Demanding everything from Lexa. Everything she’s been aching to give.

And the shock wears off but the surprise is still there, still apparent in the way Clarke’s breath hitches against her cheek when Lexa kisses back. When she relaxes into it and allows herself this one perfect moment.

This one dream come to life.

When she finally, finally has everything she’s wanted since before she realized it.

Clarke’s hands are soft on her cheeks, but strong. Holding her steady. Lexa pushes against her, Clarke’s body warm and inviting, her nose cold from the wind outside.

Her hands tighten on Clarke’s hips and she feels herself being pulled. Somehow hears Clarke’s back hit her closed bedroom door.

The door in the middle of the hall.

In the middle of the hall with drunken soldiers and men she’s expected to lead.

It pains her to stop. To pull away.

To draw back from lips that chase hers.

There’s a smile on Clarke’s face and in her eyes, shining bright just for her. Only for Lexa.

It steals the breath from her lungs and she can’t remember why she stopped. Why she pulled away. Why she’s no longer kissing this girl who fell from the heavens.

Clarke brushes her thumbs along Lexa’s cheeks, studying her face. Her eyes roam over every inch of skin, scanning and regarding. Lexa hasn’t felt this seen, this noticed since she was young.

She finally gets her breath back, though her world feels like it was upended. Swirling and swimming before her like it did the time she fell from her horse and rolled down a hill when she was wee.

“Not everything is an obligation.”

Lexa doesn’t even hear Clarke’s words until the door to her room is already being shut behind her.

Clarke’s coy smile still imprinted in her mind.

 

Xx

 

She doesn’t sleep.

Stares at the ceiling of her room stupefied. Grasping at straws. Feeling Clarke’s lips against her own. Clarke’s brashness. Her warmth.

It’s unnerving.

Everything she’s been taught wants to fly out the window. Everything about love and loss and valor and honor.

What picking up the sword for kin and country really means.

And now there’s Clarke.

Standing there in the middle of it.

Wearing her tartan and caring for her brothers. Her clansmen.

It all circles through her brain until the sun begins to rise. The slightest hint of dawn alights the window and she’s up and out and walking quietly to the stables. The warm nickers and hellos from their mounts pulling her into routine.

 

Xx

 

She thinks about it. Hasn’t stopped thinking about it. Not since Gustus mentioned it, and not since Clarke turned every other offer down. The anxiety weighed on her like a stone, not allowing her a breath. But, it’s different now.

She wonders if this is what Clarke was trying to tell her all along.

Shakes her head when she thinks about the mood that sat on Clarke’s shoulders when they weren’t speaking. How angry and tense she was, stalking about the field and tending to the wounded with fire in her eyes and wit on her tongue.

Something… _ something _ is different about her.

An energy that feels real and abstract at the same time.

Lexa has been drawn to it like a moth to the flame, but the others don’t know how to handle it.

How to handle her.

Clarke the enigma.

Clarke the healer.

Clarke the witch.

Clarke the girl who sits at dinner and rolls her eyes as she gives Lexa half of her bread. Listens to her stories and laughs or knocks her down a few pegs.

Her soul feels lighter just looking at her and Lexa hasn’t wanted to think about it, but she hasn’t stopped.

Can’t put it from her mind.

 

Xx

 

She lasts until midday before she finds her feet taking her to the little pantry where Clarke keeps her herbs.

It’s empty and the smile Lexa fought from taking hold of her face falls.

She’s probably with Seamus. Sitting by his bedside and not allowing anyone else to touch him.

When Lexa makes her way inside the inn to find food. She sees Clarke hunched over a table by the fire, her hand clenched around a stein and her breathing deep. A smile burrows into her cheeks before she realizes it and she’s next to Clarke in seconds.

Clarke doesn’t wake even with Lexa stroking her arm, her shoulder.

“Clarke.”

The other girl sighs in her sleep and doesn’t stir.

“Clarke…” Lexa tries again, swinging a leg over the bench and sitting down.

“ _ Sassenach _ .”

Clarke blinks and tries to focus. Stares ahead before finding Lexa’s eyes. A blush creeps across her cheeks and she yawns.

“Hello.”

“Falling asleep before lunch,  _ sassenach _ ?”

“I didn’t get much sleep last night and I had a busy morning tending to Seamus.”

Lexa warms.

“No sleep for the  _ sassenach _ , aye?” She can’t help but tease.

“But you slept well?” Clarke sits up and stretches. Lexa watches her own hand fall from Clarke’s shoulder.

“Not a wink.” She smirks, her intent clear.

“Well, then. We make quite the pair.”

They both smile, something giddy fills the space between them.

“Clarke.”

“Lexa.”

Lexa pauses and sends Clarke a look which only makes her smile more.

“Is that… was that…” and suddenly the words are no longer there for her. The words she thought about all night. All day. Turned over and over again.

Her belly filling with dread.

“Clarke, was that, I…”

“You don’t catch on very quick do you? For a soldier, I thought you’d be quicker on your feet.” Clarke leans closer. Her lips a breath away from Lexa’s.

Waiting.

Not closing the gap.

Until Lexa does.

Clarke warm and inviting against her.

This kiss more assured than the one they shared last night. Movements gentle, but not tentative. Not skittish. 

This kiss is real and solid. 

Clarke’s tongue brushing along Lexa’s lip and asking, tempting. Lexa allows it, a thrill shooting down her spine when Clarke pulls her closer, dips into her. 

There’s a gasp and a shudder and Lexa cups the back of Clarke’s neck and keeps her there, keeps her attached.

Moves with more fervor. 

Feels herself begin to unmoor.

Clarke makes a soft noise in the back of her throat and Lexa chases it. Needing to hear it again. Memorize it. 

Falling into this kiss and this moment with this girl headfirst.

Breaking apart only when a door slams in the hall and boots move closer to the tables.

Clarke’s eyes are dark when Lexa moves away. Tries to put any amount of space between them to stop herself from drowning in lips and eyes and hair and smiles.

“ _ Sassenach _ ,” she whispers, feels Clarke’s warm palm squeeze her thigh. “Would you-”

“There’s something I need to tell you. Should tell you.” Clarke cuts her off, suddenly buttoned up again. Suddenly tense and rigid and not at all the one who was just kissing Lexa back.

“Clarke-”

“No, Lexa. It wouldn’t be right. Not like this.”  She stands, her movements filled with a flurry. Her body tense.

“ _ Clarke _ ,” Lexa calls her again, needs to get her out of her head. She grabs Clarke’s hand and stops her from storming away. “Have you eaten?”

And she knows they need to talk. She knows Clarke has a secret. Deep and dark and scary even for the one who holds it. But all Lexa can think about in this moment is not letting go. Not allowing Clarke to walk away. Not when she hasn’t seen her all day and suddenly being tired doesn’t matter.

Not allowing Clarke to button up and close herself off again.

Not after last night.

And not after that last kiss.

Clarke stops and eyes her, takes a breath, her shoulders relaxing infinitesimal amount. “No.”

“I’ll get us some food. We’ll eat and then we can handle whatever comes next.” Lexa gives her a reassuring smile and squeezes her hand, only letting go when Clarke meets her eyes again. 

She nods and bites her lip, embarrassed or nervous or a combination of the two, and sits down on the bench again.

 

Xx

 

They take a walk into the woods.

The trees providing comfort. Shadow.

Privacy.

Lexa got Clarke to smile during their meal and felt the better for it. The weight of whatever Clarke is holding set aside for just those few stolen moments.

They shared a long, coy, look. Both blushing fiercely. 

Both still thinking about that kiss they sank into.

And then Lexa led her into the trees. Following the path next to the stream and waiting for Clarke to feel safe.

To be ready.

Her arm steady on Lexa’s elbow, following Lexa’s lead through the trail and around the rocks and branches in their way.

“I used to visit this town when I was young. My father would come here to sell his grain and my mother would stay in the inn at the end of the street. My sister and I would come with them once or twice a year.”

“That sounds nice.”

“‘Twas. I always liked walking along this path. I never wanted to be in the town with the hustle and crowd. The countryside was more inviting to me. The open air, the forests.”

“I lived in a city. I grew up in a city.” She sounds shaky at first, her voice gaining strength as she continues.

Lexa’s heart thunders in her chest and her mouth goes dry.

“It was loud. Messy and dirty and smelly. I loved it. Relished in it. The world was at my fingertips and I grabbed it and never let go. I miss it.”

“You can always go back,” Lexa offers. Not pushing. Scared that Clarke will stop.

“I can’t. I don’t know how.”

And Clarke does stop. Pulls Lexa around to look at her. Drops her hands and stares at the ground, pulling in air and weighing her words.

“Lexa, did you mean to offer me a union?”

Her eyes lock onto Lexa’s and there is no escape.

“Yes.” She swallows hard, her voice ragged with the word. 

“There are things- there are-you must know who I really am before you decide to tie yourself to me.”

Lexa holds still. The brave and skittish creature building herself up before her eyes.

“I cannot go back to my city. If I went back to my city,  _ now _ , it would be unrecognizable. My city… I am…”

A bird chirps loudly in the tree above them and they both startle. So focused on each other the world dropped away until it made itself known again. Clarke’s hand flies to her chest and her eyes grow wider than Lexa has ever seen them.

She steps closer and takes Clarke’s free hand. Squeezes it. Waits.

“Do you remember where you found me?”

Lexa nods. The stones of Craigh Na Dun vivid in her mind. She’s heard their tales, the myths that surround the jagged rocks that reach to the sky. 

It hits Lexa before Clarke even says it. She looks up at Clarke in wonder, hardly believing it and yet.

“Do you remember how scared I looked, how  _ odd _ ?”

“Clarke….” her own brow furrows and yes, yes this is what Clarke has been trying to say all along.

“Lexa, I am not of this time.”

Clarke’s words are shaky and she looks like she will be sick, but she stands and forces herself to hold Lexa’s gaze.

Lexa gasps, “You came through the stones.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NACHOS STRIKES AGAIN!!! https://femininenachos.tumblr.com/post/161899505608/the-real-reason-outlanderlexa-is-so-pouty-and?is_highlighted_post=1


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for being patient while I went and played in another 'verse! I can't stay away from these two, especially now that Outlander S3 is airing. I just love this noob and her sassenach.

Lexa’s face goes perfectly white. Perfectly still.

Her eyes find Clarke’s and don’t leave. Don’t blink.

The storm inside of Clarke picks up speed. She keeps her hands down at her sides, afraid to even breathe.

Lexa repeats it. Louder, but even more disbelieving than before. “You came through the stones.”

The way she looks at Clarke then is an opening. Her eyebrows tick up and her jaw clenches, and this is the only nudge Clarke will get to tell her story.

“Yes.”

“When?”

“I’m not sure how long I’ve been here-”

“No.” Lexa cuts her off, her voice harsh for just a second, before softening. “I mean, when… are you _from_?”

“Lexa…”

“You wanted me to know who you were before I offered you a union. Don’t back down now, Clarke.” There’s the hint of bite in her words. Vowels laced with something sharp. Something Clarke has never heard from her.

Clarke doesn’t hesitate, though the words feel like they trip out of her mouth. “Almost two hundred years from now, 1945.”

She sees the truth hit Lexa square in the chest.

“Two _hundred_ years.”

“Yes.”

Lexa turns and takes a few steps deeper into the forest, but Clarke doesn’t move. Cannot move. Feels as if everything good she felt since landing here is slowly slipping through her fingers. She simply observes, tries to breathe.

Lexa pacing before her, jaw working back and forth and eyes wide. Hands opening and closing at her sides, seemingly grasping for… _something_.

Sanity?

Reality maybe?

“How?” She finally says something. Puts the feeling of the world turning into one single word.

“I don’t know. I was on vacation with my… I was on vacation, after the war. The world was torn apart and I don’t know if it will ever be put back together. The quiet countryside seemed like the perfect place to get away… my ears still ring will the noise of destruction. The stones,” Clarke stops here. Doesn’t know how to explain it to Lexa.

Doesn’t know how to explain _any_ of it to Lexa. But this seems like the hardest part. The strangest part.

Magical stones that pull people through dimensions. Through time and space.

Even though she’s here now it all seems too…

“There was this hum, a whisper that came from them. A buzzing almost.” She stops. Remembers it.

The inexplicable force that overcame her. The _desire_.

“I felt myself moving towards them before I knew what was happening. A trance or an _urge_ …” She looks up and Lexa’s eyes are riveted on her. Her face has softened and she’s moved closer to where Clarke stands.

Her head cocked ever so slightly to the side. Her hands still at her sides, finally.

Something in Clarke blooms at the sight.

“I reached out to touch them,” she raises her hand, just as she did that night. “And then I was here.”

She shrugs and tries to read the look on Lexa’s face.  Holds as still as possible. Doesn’t even breathe. Afraid.

Lexa is quiet for a long time. The trees around them all come back to life. Birds and wind and leaves singing.

But Lexa is still.

Her jaw still clenched. She shifts on her feet and studies the ground. The pebbles. Her shoes.

Finally, finally, she speaks. Voice as quiet as Clarke has ever heard.

“What’s it like?”

“The future?”

“Aye.”

“Loud. Colorful. Angry.”

She looks up then. A storm in her eyes.

“You fought in a war, _sassenach_?”

The fear that gripped Clarke as soon as she began telling Lexa who she was begins to unfurl and dissipate with the use of her nickname.

“Yes, I was a nurse.”

“So you’re not a witch then are you?” Her lip quirks up in a hint of a smile and Clarke inches forward. “No white witch captured in the woods?”

“I wouldn’t say that…” she teases back and it feels too good, too easy.

That soft smile is back. Fuller than just a moment ago. Clarke takes her first easy breath in moments.

“Lexa, how are you so calm about this? I just told you I came from the future and you’re teasing me about my profession.”

Lexa turns serious again, but doesn’t close herself off. “I felt it. Something different about you.” She holds Clarke’s gaze.  “Special.”

“You felt it?”

“Aye. Can’t you feel what there is between us? Something that tugs at me, and I could not explain it if I tried, but it is there and it is real and it becomes more solid with every passing day.”

“Yes.” It’s the truth and it slips from her lips.

The _truth_. No longer locked inside her chest, but there. Shouldered by Lexa.

“So, now I know who you are, Clarke. And I want to sit here with you and hear everything until it grows too dark for us to sit in the woods any longer. And then we will decide what to do with your predicament.”

Lexa steps closer to her yet again. Fingers dust along her wrist, soft and fleeting. Almost too quick for Clarke to feel. But she does.

She always feels Lexa.

Follows her to a large log felled and not yet rotting on the ground. They sit, facing each other.

And Lexa waits. Waits again, always, for Clarke to begin.

For Clarke to share.

Just, for Clarke.

And so she does.

She tells Lexa everything.

Everything about growing up, about the world she knows, the world that seems like a fever dream from what surrounds them now. About both of the wars that turned the world into a dark, violent place.

And Lexa listens. Asks questions.

Nods her head and watches Clarke speak. Serious and spellbound by everything she hears.

But she never looks nervous or frightened.

She simply looks like Lexa, the girl that Clarke has started to fall for.

“What about us, what happened to the Jacobites?”

Lexa hears the answer in Clarke’s hesitance.

“It’s a lost cause, then.”

“I don’t know. I’m here… I know what happened, maybe that’s the reason I was brought here…”

“Maybe.” Lexa takes a deep breath and stares up at the sky, noticing the growing twilight around them. “Let’s get back to the inn.”

She holds her elbow out for Clarke to guide her back, but Clarke ignores it and steps into her. Pulling her into a hug instead and waiting for Lexa to relax into it.

She does, rests her head on Clarke’s shoulder and breathes.

“Whatever spirit or god brought you here, _sassenach_ , I’m glad for it every day.”

Clarke’s breath hitches in her throat and she turns her head and kisses Lexa.

And Lexa kisses back. Softly. Hungrily.

A kiss that speaks what words cannot.

“Thank you for letting me see you, Clarke.”

She kisses Clarke again. Chaste and simple and with an unspoken beauty.

“Thank you for asking. For trusting me.”

“Always.”

 

Xx

 

Dinner is just starting at the inn, but Clarke pulls Lexa past it and to the pub where they drank with the men last night. They sit at a small dark table in the corner, and Lexa gets up and returns with drinks and a soft smile on her face.

“Stew will be here shortly.”

“You didn’t have to do that, Lexa.” She feels nervous again, unsure of why. They’ve left the privacy of the woods. The trees. The air and universe.

And now, now they are back in society.

Clarke from the future. Lexa from the past.

Both of them here, together.

Somehow.

The secret burns bright inside Clarke. There is safety in confiding in Lexa. Safety and reassurance.

And… danger. Danger that she's now subjected Lexa to. If anyone found out...

Lexa softens. Her intuition so sharp, nothing kept from her keen eyes for long. She pauses long enough again for Clarke to pull herself from her thoughts.

The look she finds on Lexa’s face is so soft and affectionate it takes her breath away.

“I know, but I’m hungry and you dragged me away from dinner.” She smiles into her ale and takes a long drink.

“Are you sure that you’re alright? With me?” She can’t help it. Needs to hear it again, just one more time, before they move on.

Before their lives both change. Because now, now Lexa is tied to her no matter what.

Her confidant. Her support.

Her partner.

Another soft look. “More than ever, _sassenach_. It’s out in the open now.”

Clarke nods and picks up her own ale, downing half of it before setting the stein back on the table. Ready. To face whatever comes as long as Lexa is beside her. Drawing from that strength and assuredness that beams off the other girl.

“I was afraid my life would be boring after the war. I went home and nothing was the same. _I_ wasn’t the same. And now I’m here… and I feel more alive than I ever have.”

Another truth. Hidden and kept away until this very moment. Until it leaves her lips and exists in this space that stretches between them.

Another truth that feels better off her chest.

She is steadier for it again.

Lexa studies her, licks her lips and glances down before she asks the question Clarke knows sits between them. “Do you want to go back?”

And even though she was expecting it, the way Lexa’s voice cracks on the last word hurts. “I don’t…”

“If we were close to the stones. If you had the chance and the choice?” Green eyes flicker with seriousness. She is merely asking. No guilt or anger.

Just a question.

Clarke thinks about Finn. The life she left behind. The modern world, with its flaws and beauty. And then she looks at the person sitting before her and her stomach flips. She knows the answer. Has felt it for weeks.

“I don’t think there is a choice.”

“But if there was.” Lexa holds firm. Doesn’t back down. Doesn’t soften.

She needs to know as much as Clarke.

“What is this, Lexa?”

She watches again as Lexa swallows her words, looks to the side and clenches her jaw. It is her turn now to be patient, and she will not push.

“If  I am to offer you a union, it will be the only one I ever make. I believe in the truth of that sacred bond with another. If I give this to you, Clarke. If I give you my name and my protection, my life, you will be the only one who will ever have it. I will not do so if you intend on returning.” When her eyes meet Clarke’s they are deep, unfathomable.

And Clarke can see every inch of the soul inside of her.

Instead of answer with words, she reaches across the table and threads her fingers together with Lexa’s, squeezing the reassurance into her skin.

“I want you to become my people, Clarke. But not because you have to.”

“Not everything is an obligation,” Clarke repeats from the previous night. Squeezing their hands together again and dipping down so Lexa can read the truth in her eyes.

Lexa nods, a small smile threatening to grow on her face appears and Clarke can relax.

They’re interrupted by the arrival of two heaping bowls of stew, “On the house for the Commander.”

“For the who?” Clarke looks at Lexa in confusion, but Lexa blushes and softly thanks the woman.

Lexa takes a bite of gravy soaked potato and ignores Clarke’s gaping mouth.

“I never said you were the only one with secrets, _sassenach_.”

 

Xx

 

Lexa remains as infuriating as ever, sitting across from Clarke and refusing to answer any questions about the use of the title.

Clarke tries.

Again and again.

And Lexa simply shrugs every time and spoons more stew into her mouth. Or takes another sip of her ale. Or just smiles that impish smile at Clarke.

She can see that it’s amusing to Lexa.

There’s a twinkle in her eyes and that smirk never fully leaves her lips. She doesn’t even grumble when Clarke playfully kicks at her feet under the table.

It’s _maddening_.

And Clarke wonders just why she’s so enraptured with this creature. The stoic, quiet, wholly infuriating, delicate yet somehow stronger than seems possible girl called Lexa.

The only reaction she seems to garner out of Lexa is the frown and admonishment leveled at her when Clarke reaches across the table and snatches the last of her roll.

“Oh, that’s what gets a rise out of you?” Clarke rolls her eyes and tears into the bread with a smile.

 

Xx

 

They stay at the pub late.

Much later than they should.

They don’t drink too much, but they simply enjoy each other. The easy way they can interact now, with Clarke’s secrets out in the open.

Lexa waits for Clarke to thread her arm around hers as they walk back to the sleeping inn. Pulling her close, tight. Closer than they’ve been since Lexa sat behind her on top of her mount.

The walk back to the inn is quiet. The last shared bit of alone time before they part. The last bit of easiness.

Reality.

This new version that Clarke enjoys more than she thought. More than the one she lived in for her entire life.

Lexa leads her upstairs to the rooms. Holding her hand, fingers threaded together. She’s bashful, shy almost when they reach that same door to Clarke’s room. She looks away as she clears her throat.

“I have some business to take care of tomorrow. Do not speak of our decision until I am back, even if prompted.”

“Is something wrong?”

“No,” Lexa leans closer. “No, nothing is wrong. There are just some loose ends that need to be tied.”

“Find me tomorrow.”

“Always,” she breathes and captures Clarke in a kiss. Full of longing and sweetness. “Sleep well, _sassenach_.”

 

Xx

 

Clarke busies herself with taking care of the men all day, checking in on Seamus and glancing up at anyone who walks too close to her in case it’s Lexa.

She hasn’t stopped thinking about their discussion the day before. Hasn’t stopped feeling Lexa’s soft goodnight kiss on her lips. Hasn’t stopped hearing Lexa’s soft voice talk to her about her youth, her life.

The way her face studied Clarke’s as she spoke. How she seemed to hang on every word that left Clarke’s lips. Never once questioning the magic that brought her here. Never batting an eye at it.

The Highlands themselves seem full of this magic. Thrumming with every gust of wind and every drop of rain.

She thinks about how the men react to Lexa. How Gustus and the other leaders react to Lexa. How there’s a certain deference she seems to be given as she walks among them. Clarke assumed it was because she was a woman. A warrior and a leader, yes, but set apart and given even more respect because of it.

But, it seems there’s more than meets the eye.

The title from last night rings around her ears. How Lexa seemed to blush and shy away from it. How she teasingly refused Clarke’s questions.

Commander.

Commander of what?

The last time Clarke asked her about it, about how the men regarded her, listened to her, Lexa stood up abruptly in a storm of a bad mood. Shutting her out.

This was different, and yet still not enough.

There is an entire picture of Lexa behind her kilt and sword. Behind her kind smile and her soft eyes.

An entire picture that Clarke has only seen a sketch of.

 

Xx

 

Evening falls and the men settle in around the long tables for food. Elk adorns her plate and Clarke cuts it, lonely at the table and missing Lexa. The one who with just her calm presence is enough to pull Clarke from her thoughts. To block the glares from the men who sit around her. To drown the noise of their carousing.

She picks at her meal and retreats to the quiet of her room quickly. Regretting it as soon as she’s there, not tired enough for sleep and not intrigued enough with the book on her bedside table. Her thoughts pull her eyes from the page to the fire before her, drifting off to pieces of her life she hasn’t thought of in so long. That she didn’t need to think of, not here. Not in this world.

The memories of her childhood that she shared with Lexa.

Of her schooling.

Of holding bloodied bodies together long enough to fix them or see them through to the other side.

And Lexa, beautiful Lexa who sat intrigued and engaged. And asked questions. And never shied away from the truth. With eyes that went wide at the thought of the future. With cars and bombs and noises unlike any other.

And how she never seemed scared of it.

 

Xx

 

A soft tap breaks Clarke from her thoughts and her heart leaps at the distraction, an excited tingling in her fingers at the idea of who would knock at her door at so late an hour.

When she opens it, she’s not disappointed. Wrapping her arms around Lexa’s shoulders and pulling her inside, into her.

Lexa’s hands wrap around her waist and she sinks into Clarke’s hug. Breathing deeply and sighing happily.

They stay there for a long moment, Clarke’s fingers threading through Lexa’s braids and keeping her close, close. Something inside of her finally letting go with Lexa here in her arms.

“ _Sassenach_.”

Clarke hums and squeezes Lexa’s slight shoulders once more before stepping back slightly to get a good look at the tired girl before her. “Have you eaten?”

Lexa shakes her head, her eyes drifting to Clarke’s lips.

It is Clarke who closes the distance between them. Who feels Lexa against her, the way she relaxes even further with Clarke’s kiss, another sigh expelled against her cheek.

“Where were you?”

“I told you, loose ends to tie.” Lexa dips her head and tries to kiss Clarke again, but Clarke smiles and moves at the last second.

“You need food, let me fetch you a plate from the kitchen.”

“I don’t need anything now that I’m here with you.”

“Scoundrel,” Clarke teases and sidesteps around Lexa to the door. “Wait here, I want to hear this story.”

“What story, _sassenach_?”

“The story of Lexa.”

 

Xx

 

Lexa is sitting by the fire in the same spot Clarke vacated to answer the door. Her gloves are off and her coat is open, but still on her frame. Her eyes are tired, but she smiles when Clarke walks in.

“You can take your coat off, the fire is warm.”

“Aye, but how would that look if someone were to storm in here? We can’t have everyone thinking the lovely Miss Griffin is improper, can we?” The way Lexa teases her with such ease sets Clarke’s soul singing.

“If anyone was barging in here at this late hour for anything of the sort, I think that would look worse.” She sasses back and sets the tray of porridge down for Lexa. “The elk is all gone and so is the bread. This is all could scrounge up for you.”

“It’s perfect, Clarke.”

They sit in content silence while Lexa eats and Clarke settles in next to the fire.

“Did you keep busy today?” Lexa asks, wiping the napkin across her mouth and setting the empty bowl aside.

“I did,” Clarke smiles at the way Lexa wriggles out of her coat and relaxes further into the chair. “And you?”

“Aye.”

“Very important business then, I assume.” Clarke mocks, happy with the playful attitude they’ve developed over the course of the last few days.

Lexa quirks her brow and nods her head, adding weight to the mood. “Yes. Unions are very serious things.”

Warmth blooms inside Clarke at her words and the soft way Lexa turns her body closer to Clarke.

“They are, yes.”

Lexa doesn’t pick up the thread, but simply allows a fondness to fill her eyes.

“Were you in town today?”

“No,” she fights a yawn. “I traveled a bit.”

“And came back all in one day?”

“It wasn’t far. And I wanted to be back.” Another one of her smiles, the kind the barely pluck at her lips but worm their way into Clarke. “I brought you something.”

“Me?”

Lexa hums and reaches into her breast pocket, further pulling Clarke’s attention.

“I had this made for you, for when everything is settled.” She holds up a simple band of twisted metal.

A ring.

She stands and draws closer to Clarke, kneeling down with both knees and offering herself fully.

“A piece of myself, my past, to tie our future. To mark our union.”

“Lexa…”

“I meant what I said yesterday, Clarke. I will only offer myself to one person. I take this union as seriously as I take air into my lungs to breathe. Will you still have me?”

Clarke answers her with a kiss and feels Lexa’s smile against her own.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been a little bit... writing is hard, life is busy.

It’s strange, Lexa realizes, being away from Clarke. It always was, since the feisty Brit landed in her backyard, but it’s even stranger now.

Now that they’ve crossed that line.

Now that they’ve been open and honest with each other.

Now that Clarke has heard someone call her Commander, even if she doesn’t quite know what it means. Doesn’t quite realize the weight of it.

But, last night it all shifted into something pleasant and full and real. The way the burden of Clarke’s secret lifted from her to settle more comfortably between them.

The way Clarke kissed her so tenderly at her door before disappearing inside.

That kiss carried her all the way through the night, where she miraculously fell asleep dreaming of a strange place in the future, standing and staring at the screaming sky with Clarke’s hand in hers.

Carried her all the way down to the barn, to her horse, and through the familiar path to the next town.

Carried her all through her errands.

Clarke and her soft, gentle lips. Smiling only for Lexa.

Xx

He looks shocked when she barges into the shop, eyes going wide.

“Good morning, Nyko.”

“Are my eyes working correctly, or do I see a ghost?”

She smiles and watches the tension ease from his large frame. “Did they ever work correctly?”

His laugh booms around the small room and Lexa smiles even wider, crossing in two steps only to be swept into a hug.

“I’m glad to see you, Heda. Last I heard…”

“It’s been a tough year, I’ve had to stay away… the bounty.”

“Aye,” he nods. “What brings you by? Don’t tell me you’ve missed teasing me for this beard?”

“While I have missed that,” she tugs at the long hair that extends from his chin, “I have a favor to ask of you.”

“Always with the favors.” He groans around a smile.  “You can’t just drop in and expect me to cater to your whims. I’m a busy man, I have a booming business.”

“Well, I suppose I can take it to someone else.”

“I suppose you could.”

They hold each other’s gaze for a moment, the jest not fading away.  She had him as soon as she walked in. She always had him. She digs around under her shirt for the small piece of metal she’s kept on the chain, close to her heart, for the past year. Once it’s freed, she holds it up for him to study. “Think you can make this into a ring for me?”

“Your key?”

“Aye.”

He takes it from her hand and holds it up to the light, “It’s in terrible shape.”

“I know. It’s seen better days.”

“Why a ring? You’ve kept it around your neck this long.”

“It’s not for me,” she blushes. The floor suddenly more interesting than anything else in the room.

His realization only works to make her cheeks burn brighter. “Oh.”

Blood rushes through her ears and she finally works up the nerve to look up and meet his eyes. The happiness she finds inside soothes her.

“You’ve finally done it then.”

“Done what?”

“Tell me about her.”

“Can you make the ring or not? I don’t have anything else to give and…”

“Sit down at the table and tell me about this woman who’s decided she wants to put up with you for the rest of your stubborn life.” His fist thuds on the table as he moves past it to the fire, burning low.

Just thinking about Clarke makes her annoyance fade away, and she plops herself down in a chair and steals one of the scones from the plate on the table. Nyko gets to work building the fire back up and Lexa feels a serene nostalgia fill the room.

“I’ve missed you.”

“Don’t get bloody soft on me now, Heda.”

“Since when is being truthful a weakness?”

“Since you disappeared without a trace.”

“Nyko, did you really think-” Lexa can’t say it. Can’t form the words. Can’t fall back into that pit in her mind that kept her moving.

He stands then, fanning the flames. “In my heart, I knew I would have heard word. Had a messenger…something. But in my head…” he shakes his own.

“I’m sorry.”

“You did what you had to.” He pauses and weighs his words, “Does she know about the bounty?”

Lexa works her jaw, the anger that resides in the back of her mind growing hot at the reminder of it. Of Clarke’s face when Lexa confessed. “Yes. She is just as stubborn as I am.”

It grows quiet again, the only sound the crackling of the growing fire.

“How shall I size this ring if you won’t tell me anything else about your girl?”

She answers by throwing the last bit of scone at him, scowling at his booming laugh.

Xx

Lexa watches Nyko twist her key into a ring. It’s knotty and imperfect, but it’s hers and it means something and she hopes Clarke will love it.

She watches Nyko and talks. Talks about the men. About the plans. About Clarke.

And he smiles and nods and offers a listening ear.

When it’s finished, she tries it on. The metal still warm as it slides onto her finger. But something inside of her takes flight at the thought of it adorning Clarke’s hand.

“This should fit her, thank you.”

“It has been my pleasure, I may have taken just a tad longer than necessary just to keep you longer.” He winks.

“You needn’t have bothered, I require something else.”

“I’m not coming back to the clan, so you can save your speech.”

“It’s not about the clan. Do you still have those papers I gave to you before…”

Again she doesn’t finish the thought, but he understands her question and leaves the room, shuffling around in the back room before returning with the leather wrappings.

“Thank you.”

“I promised I would keep them safe, I meant it.”

Xx

She finally climbs back into the saddle well into the evening, her body exhausted but her soul alive after her visit with Nyko and the newly minted documents that are safe in his care.

She sways on the saddle with a smile on her face, keeping off the main roads and picking her way closer to the inn. Closer to Clarke.

She arrives tired and hungry, aching in a way she hasn’t in ages. She puts the horse up quickly, throwing extra hay into the stall and rubbing a soft nose before taking herself back up the stairs to a certain door.

Clarke answers after the gentlest of taps on her door and Lexa’s heart flutters. She’s pulled into Clarke’s embrace before she even gets her breath back and it’s all overwhelming in the best way possible.

The way she hoped against hope that it would be.

Clarke’s kiss is just as frustratingly beautiful as she remembers and just like that her long, tiring day slices itself from her bones.

Lexa doesn’t seem to get up the nerve to talk about what kept her gone all day until she’s fed and content by the fire in Clarke’s chair. The other girl’s eyes studying her face, her frame, a small smile at home on her lips.

Her knees hit the ground without thought, offering herself up again completely and utterly to Clarke. Cementing the look on Clarke’s face into memory, and feeling that flame inside of her kickstart once again.

Clarke studies the twisted band in Lexa’s hand, searching for the right words to say and giving up when they won’t come. The kiss is enough.

Is everything.

“Clarke, there is still a price attached to my head. But I will protect you for as long as I’m able.” She almost chokes on the words but forces herself to look Clarke in the eyes.

“That doesn’t scare me, Lexa.”

Clarke brushes a strand of hair off of Lexa’s face, behind her ear. It’s that moment of subtle softness that absolutely breaks the chains of worry in Lexa’s mind.

Lexa grabs Clarke’s hand from where it rests against her cheek and slides the ring onto Clarke’s finger, sharing a small laugh with Clarke when it gets caught for just a moment around her knuckle.

Clarke twists it, her smile wide and unbelieving. Lexa’s hands rest on Clarke’s thighs and she relaxes even more, sighing when Clarke’s free hand threads through her hair.

“You’re exhausted.”

“Trying to be rid of me,  _ sassenach _ ?”

Clarke hums, “No. I’ve waited all day for this.”

Lexa feels her eyes begin to droop. The long day catching up once again. “We’ll tell Gustus tomorrow.”

“I almost told him three times today,” Clarke says around the huff of a laugh.

Lexa looks up at her then, feeling that pull that’s grown so familiar over the past few weeks. She sits up and captures Clarke’s smile with her lips, feeling the happiness radiate between them.

She keeps her lips against Clarke’s as she works her way to standing, pulling herself farther and farther from Clarke until they have to break.

And Clarke,

Clarke  _ pouts _ .

And Lexa soars.

“If I don’t leave now,  _ sassenach _ , I won’t be leaving at all.” Her own voice is dark and promising.

“You wake before dawn anyway…And we’ve already shared a tent.” Clarke tugs at her hands and pulls her back for another kiss.

“Temptress,” Lexa teases, promptly taking another step back and gathering her coat. “I’ll find you in the morning.”

Clarke stands and pulls the ring off her finger, handing it back. “You’ll need to give this to me tomorrow.”

“Do you like it?” Suddenly sheepish, she takes the uneven excuse for a wedding band and hides it in her pocket.

“It came from you, so I love it.”

She clears her throat, “It was a key. That’s why it’s all knobbly.”

“A key to what?” Clarke steps closer, trying to quell the uneasiness.

“My homestead. It will belong to you now, just as I will belong to you.”

“Will you tell me about it…?”

Lexa nods, swears it right then no matter how painful, “I will tell you anything you want to know, Clarke.”

“Tomorrow,” she smiles and places a hint of a kiss on Lexa’s cheek.

“Tomorrow.”

Xx

It’s a quiet affair.

Four of them standing at the bend in the river just inside the woods as the afternoon sun dips into the evening. Just past the spot where Clarke revealed her true self to Lexa.

Gustus, the holy man he found who would perform the rites, and Clarke in a new dress, smiling more with her eyes than anything else and holding tightly to Lexa’s hand.

Lexa blossomed when she caught sight of Clarke, stunning and calm in the dress that looks like it was made just for her. Watching Clarke’s eyes travel over the fancy shirt and jacket that pair with her kilt. The ceremonial sword at her side. Her hair braided back in the traditional wedding knot.

It’s quiet and simple as they stand next to the running water and pledge themselves to one another. Vows of fealty. Words of love. Promises both spoken aloud and only between the soul.

The ring eases onto Clarke’s finger with no trouble and Lexa knows it’s a sign.

Their kiss is chaste, simple.

But it speaks to Lexa’s soul.

Her heart growing and expanding to pull this impossible woman even further inside.

“ _ My sassenach _ .”

Something cracks inside of Lexa the moment her lips touch Clarke’s. The moment that seals their union.

Two souls, together.

It cracks and multiplies, filling every single empty space she didn’t know was inside.

And all at once she is whole.

And completely Clarke’s own.

Xx

Gustus carries on ahead, escorting the holy man back to the village, leaving Clarke and Lexa to smile at each other like fools.

They stand and kiss in the same spot where they said their vows until the sun is almost gone from the sky.

Clarke’s arms wrapped around Lexa’s neck, keeping her steady and close.

Lexa’s own hands resting on Clarke’s waist, squeezing and sure when it all becomes too much. As if she can’t believe that it’s real and happening.

Happening  _ to _ her.

A life she dreamed about for so long, becoming something tangible in her hands.

And Clarke’s lips are pink and swollen, her cheeks flushed and her eyes sparkling like the stars that will soon adorn the sky.

And Lexa squeezes her hands one last time, brushes the softest of kisses against Clarke’s forehead, and begins leading them back to the inn.

They’re met with a raucous cheer from the men, a roaring fire in the hearth and a feast scattered on the assorted tables.

Lexa’s cheeks nearly split with her grin and the cheers that do not stop as she and Clarke move further into the room threaten to topple her over.

Clarke, never one to back down, cackles beside her.

Lexa can feel the elation radiating off of her wife and she wonders if her heart will grow big enough to fly right out of her chest.

Xx

The night grows long as they eat and drink, laughing with the rabble rousers around them. All of whom have decided they can pat Lexa as hard as possible on the back as they pass.

Clarke simply squeezes her knee under the table and offers her small, soft looks.

And every time she does, all Lexa can think about is leaning over and kissing her again. Claiming those lips and never stopping. Never coming up for air.

But there is still a party raging around them.

“Lexa,” Clarke breaks her thoughts soon enough.

“ _ Sassenach _ ?”

“Can we take a walk? It’s getting warm in here.” Clarke’s eyes don’t leave Lexa’s lips and Lexa warms at the thought.

She struggles and stammers to get out a yes before hopping off the bench and extending her hand to Clarke.

They somehow sneak back outside undetected, and before Lexa can comment on it, her back hits the side of the building and Clarke is on her.

It grows heated in seconds, and Lexa pulls Clarke closer to her, as close as she can.

“Take me to bed,” Clarke husks in her ear and a shiver spills down Lexa’s spine.

She nods, throat dry and eyes wide. Clarke pulls her hand, leading them to the back entrance of the inn, up the stairs that are seldom used. Lexa’s palm grows clammy against Clarke’s and she smiles at the hooded look Clarke sends her as they reach the top of the stairs and get closer to her room.

“No, stop.” Lexa tugs and Clarke turns. “We should go to my rooms. I’m at the corner and no one is near me.”

Clarke’s eyebrow raises and her irises nearly disappear. Lexa squeezes her hand and listens to her pulse roar in her ears as they walk to the other end of the building into her own spacious room.

“Lexa….” Clarke gasps and turns around the room. “You’ve been holding out on me!” She nudges Lexa’s shoulder and explores the large room.

And Lexa watches her with a smile on her face.

“How?”

She shrugs, and Clarke scowls. “You’re not the only one around her who knows how to charm.”

Clarke scowls again before spiraling into a laugh, and Lexa cannot be this far away from her any longer. She locks the door and sweeps into the middle of the room, pulling Clarke up into her arms and swinging her through the air.

Clarke’s cheeks are the perfect pink when her feet land back on the ground and her eyes are heavy again, and her lips meet Lexa’s in a perfect kiss.

A kiss that could stop time.

One that causes her heart to stutter and her knees to wobble and her chest to feel like it will explode.

Her feet are moving before she registers it. Clarke guiding her back to the bed that sits against the far wall. Struggling with the sash around her chest and the buttons that hold her coat closed. Her lips insistent and her hands tugging and fighting with material.

Lexa grabs them, finally pulling herself away, smiling at the whine that falls from Clarke’s mouth.

“Patience,  _ sassenach _ .”

Clarke growls and leans in, nipping her neck and it’s Lexa’s turn to gasp.

Xx

They undress each other slowly, taking their time and sharing long, deep, searching kisses as they go.

Lexa’s hands grow more sure and steady with each moment. The anxiety and excitement in her belly at the thought of what’s to come ebbs and flows with each new hint of Clarke’s skin on display before her.

Clarke touches her with a softness that Lexa has only dreamt of before. Her hands moving over scarred and puckered skin as if they could heal it simply by touching. Her lips seeking everything that Lexa has ever wanted to give to another.

Knees hit the bed and she wobbles before sitting. Looking up at Clarke and barely breathing. Barely understanding that this is her life. That this is a reality.

That Clarke is here and hers and looking at her with so much love in her eyes it could rival the sun.

“Clarke, I-” Lexa chokes.

Clarke’s hand brushes along her jaw, smoothing away the unease that sits between them. Patient and waiting.

“I’ve never…” Lexa tries to look down, to allow her confession to fall to the floor so as not to see the look on Clarke’s face.

But Clarke holds her steady. Doesn’t let her shy away. “Lexa,  _ Lexa _ …” she coos, calm and gentle. Lexa’s feelings for this girl multiplying yet again in a way she could never begin to fathom.

“Just kiss me,” she leans down and draws Lexa into an easy kiss, pulling her focus back to what matters. To what exists between them. They stay like that, sharing slow kisses back and forth until Lexa grows restless and pulls Clarke on top of her.

It’s a feeling unlike any other. The skin to skin contact has her buzzing, and Clarke’s chest against her own sends a shock through her. She grips at Clarke, digging into her back and wanting her as close as possible.

Not willing to have this feeling end anytime soon.

This, _ this _ is what it means to be alive.

And Clarke follows Lexa’s lead. Moves her mouth down Lexa’s jaw, to her neck. Dragging along her collarbones and her shoulders. Teasing at the tops of her breasts, looking up to find Lexa watching her. Asking without words.

Smiling against skin when Lexa nods once, her thoughts a mess and her body craving only one thing.

Clarke worships her body. Painting her kisses all over the exposed skin she finds, nipping when Lexa lets out a moan. Laughing when hips begin to buck, asking for more.

She pulls herself back up to Lexa’s face, biting her lip and propping herself up to get a good look at her.

“ _ Sassenach _ ,” Lexa whispers, running her thumb along the dip in Clarke’s chin.

“I want to show you. Can I show you?” It’s barely loud enough for her to hear, but Lexa feels the question sink into her. Clarke’s voice is warm honey.

She nods and finally pulls Clarke back down to her lips. Kissing her like she ached to do for all of those weeks where she could only watch and imagine.

She feels Clarke’s hand move back down her body. Feels how she adjusts herself on top of her. Whines when Clarke stops kissing her, to study her face as she finally touches where Lexa needs her most. The slow, pleased smile growing on her face as Lexa reacts.

She claws at Clarke and feels her hips begin to move in rhythm with the push pull. It’s all more than she ever thought it would be, and it soon becomes too much. A strangled cry leaves her lips as colors burst before her eyes. Clarke right there with her as her body pulls taut and frozen.

With a gasp, she opens her eyes again. Something warm and magical settling over her. Clarke studying her face with a furrow, the one she has when she’s measuring herbs in her pantry or tending to a wound.

The one Lexa loves anytime it’s not directed at her.

She smiles and pulls Clarke down to her lips, crashing them together and twining their legs. Needing as much contact as possible with this girl in this moment of heaven.

Yes, this. This is the feeling that’s eluded her for so long.

The  _ infinite _ .

She’s greeted with a squeal when she flips them over. Clarke’s blonde waves spreading on the pillow below her head. Her eyes dark again, her lips swollen. And Lexa can’t do anything but look at her for a breath, and then two.

The way Clarke looks at her with everything open and there for the taking. For Lexa.

She begins moving, her hips rocking up onto Lexa’s thigh. Twisting her fingers into the hair at the base of Lexa’s neck and pulling.

Lexa pours it all into her, the words that have sat untouched in her heart gathering dust since she was young. Kisses her with a passion and fire that seem to only have been lit since Clarke fell into her life.

There is magic here.

Crackling in the air and growing thick with their love.

And Clarke nips at her lips, growing impatient.

And Lexa doesn’t want to make her wait any longer. Only wants her to experience everything she can, every expression and feeling she will ever hold.

She mimics Clarke’s movements and slides her hand down, down, down, sinking into Clarke and nearly coming again at the sensation.

Building Clarke up and holding her gaze as she does. Strong and steady and picking up the pace when Clarke wraps her legs around Lexa’s hips. Pulling her deeper, pulling her closer. Moaning into her ear and nipping at the lobe, until she shatters and clenches. Lexa’s hears her name around a gasp and feels like flying.

Everything she ever thought she could feel for someone pales in comparison to this moment here with Clarke.

And she wonders, not for the first time, if this is what Clarke was pulled here for.

To know  _ her _ .

To  _ love _ her.

To build this life here  _ with her _ .

Because this, this incomprehensible feeling cannot be explained by any other means.

Clarke finally opens her eyes and a relaxed laugh greets Lexa before she’s pulled into another heated kiss. Her own hips moving against Clarke’s thigh, that expanding weightlessness growing inside of her again.

“How did you get so good at this?” Clarke teases, tucking Lexa’s hair behind her ears with a fond smile.

“At?”

“Being charming…and… kissing me like I’ve always wanted to be kissed.” It’s hushed and quiet and sounds more like a confession than teasing.

Lexa swoons. Cannot help  _ but _ swoon.

Even as she blushes red hot.

“I said I was a virgin,  _ sassenach _ , not a nun.”

And Clarke’s peal of laughter rings around the room and straight into Lexa’s heart.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Please for the love of all that is holy, check out the manips Nachos created for this fic because they are fucking specatular! https://femininenachos.tumblr.com/post/160660962208/orangeyouglad8-femininenachos-bonus-the


End file.
